Yellow Jacket
by hiddeninthedarknessofdaylight
Summary: "Been lookin' for you." She swallowed the lump that had been growing in her stomach since earlier that afternoon. She'd thought the apocalypse would have cured her of any lingering insecurities - but that had been before she'd kissed him. Daryl/OC. Rated for future chapters as well as language. Please Review!
1. Prologue - The Highway

**Hi! So, I'll try to keep this short. I don't own The Walking Dead (this disclaimer applies to all remaining chapters of this story). The radio message was taken from The Walking Dead: Survival Instinct, which I also don't own. Anything else you recognize, also please assume I don't own. **

**The next chapter's already written, but I want to get a feel for the reader response before I post. It'll probably be up at the end of the day tomorrow, depending. I've also already written a couple scenes from seasons two and three, but y'all will have to wait for those. Thinking I'm gonna follow the main plotline for a while, until my OCs start taking a more active role in the group dynamic. **

**Daryl/OC (eventually). You'll have to guess which one, though. ;P**

**Now that's done with, on to the prologue!**

**~†~**

Kaylee did her best to continue sitting patiently behind the wheel of her car and ignore the increasing amount of horn-honking and shouting going on across the cramped freeway. The sun had gone down hours ago, and there hadn't been any room to move for hours before that. And still she waited, gore caked in her hair and on her bare arms – the blood of her family, her friends. People she'd known. The radio was silent for a change, although she could still hear the strained male voice of the message she'd been listening to over and over and over again up until around thirty minutes ago. By then the words had already become as familiar to her as her own thoughts, and she knew she'd be replaying them in her head for the rest of her life – however short that may be.

"… _of unknown origin. Citizens are strongly advised to avoid all contact with anyone who has or may have been affected. Do not try to communicate or reason with anyone displaying strange behaviors, such as individuals displaying elevated hostility and aggression. If attacked by affected individuals, IMMEDIATELY clean and disinfect any resulting bite or scratch wounds. Military units have initiated vaccination, rescue, and evacuation operations across the Southeast region. Details will be broadcast on this station as they develop. This is a recorded message, and will play again in 3 minutes…"_

The advice on the radio had come far too late. Her sister's screams and her mother's dying sobs still rang in her ears, much as she was trying to forget them. Maybe if they hadn't come to visit this week they'd still be –.

No, she couldn't let herself think that. If Atlanta was this bad, LA would have been exponentially worse. At least here there was a countryside to fall back to – somewhere to get away from the milling populous. This way, she might be able to keep Dad alive. That was something she could be thankful for, if only just. On second thought, "thankful" wasn't really the right word for what she was feeling.

Losing her patience at last with doing nothing and listening to static come through the speakers, she slid out of the car with a small huff of resignation, the muscles in her back and legs aching slightly with the effort. Dad had gotten out a while ago with Sam to watch the city burn, awestruck by the helicopters raining fire on whoever was or wasn't left below them. Kaylee couldn't bring herself to look back on the city that had been her home for six years. There were too many people she'd left behind there – too many memories.

A heavy pipe wrench hung from the sturdy tool belt slung around her hips, bouncing against her thigh with every step. She'd been lucky she'd had it – lucky she'd taken the afternoon off studying to help a friend with some busted plumbing in her basement. Well, "friend" was likely not the right word for her, but words had never really been her forte anyway, and this didn't seem like the right time to start worrying about it. The tool probably weighted around ten pounds, and tonight she felt its weight all the more acutely for its recent use. The back end seemed to work surprisingly well for inflicting blunt-force trauma to the head.

Dad was still standing among the trees on the side of the road along with a dwindling crowd, all of them continuing to watch in shock as smoke continued to rise from the ruins of Atlanta. Sam stood a little closer up on the slope, tall and thin and graceful as ever. Her dark hair, cropped short above her ears, glinted in the moonlight along with various piercings in glittering silver. She was easy to identify in the low-light – not that Kaylee could ever get her confused for someone else at this point. Much as she'd tried to escape the computer programmer and the painful memories that seemed to drift in her wake, the younger woman's obnoxiously perfect profile and less-than-sterling personality continued to haunt her.

Naturally, Sam was the first to notice her approach – oblivious as ever to Kaylee's sour mood. The pleased smile on her face gave away what she had been doing, and Kaylee felt almost bad for the solemn-looking Asian guy standing beside her. "Kay!" the woman called, too loudly. The older woman flinched slightly at the sound. "Come meet Glenn."

Dad glanced over his shoulder at her from down the slope and tried to look encouraging. He wasn't aware of the whole grisly story between Sam and his daughter, but it didn't matter much at this point. He smiled slightly, pushing past the pain shining in his own hazel eyes to try and help her let go of a little bit of hers. That was always his way – always trying to hold her up. She couldn't quite bring herself to smile back, though she wished she could for his sake.

"Glenn, this is my friend Kaylee." Sam's honey-gold eyes were alight with the excitement that came with meeting new people. Her slim hand brushed Glenn's shoulder in a way that wasn't lost on either of them, and – to his credit – the man had the decency to look uncomfortable.

"Georgia Tech, huh?" he asked, vaguely gesturing to the golden "GT" emblazoned on her t-shirt. A smile started to form on his lips, but quickly died as he glanced back at the city. "Bet it was a mess today."

From what little she'd seen of the school out of her car window on the way to Dad's hotel, "mess" didn't even begin to describe it. Too many people in too small a space – and none of them armed with anything more than a baseball bat or screwdriver. "I wasn't on campus," she answered simply, not trusting herself to elaborate. She took a long look at him, trying to place where she'd seen him before. "You were in my Calculus class freshman year, right? Professor Hernandez?"

He looked back at her sharply in surprise, then grinned. "Yeah, I think so. You were the one who always screwed up the curve."

"Sorry," she shrugged. She could tell he wasn't really upset.

"It's a bad habit of hers," Sam broke in, never one to be left out of a conversation for long. Kaylee could almost feel her satisfaction – she was always trying to get her friend to be more social, make small talk, meet people. Social situations had always seemed like a waste of time.

"How've you been?"

He shrugged and straightened the red baseball cap on top of his head. "Graduated on time, but couldn't get a job. Been delivering pizzas for two years now. Not too exciting, but it pays the bills. You?"

"Stayed in town to work on my Masters, but mostly I just fix things for extra cash. The job market does pretty much suck. You ever meet Jason Scott?"

Glenn nodded, frowning. "He was first in our class, right?"

She nodded. "He's been holed up in a bicycle repair shop for the last year or so. Couldn't find anything else to do."

"That's pretty rough."

They drifted into a strange silence, each of them looking somewhere other than at each other. Jason was dead – she'd seen the shop get swarmed on her way out of the city, and her friend's car was still parked outside.

Sam sighed beside her, breaking the tension. "Sorry, Kay. I don't think I'm going to be able to pay you for that plumbing job."

She chuckled half-heartedly, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow. "You still owe me for the last few times. I hadn't really expected you to start being responsible all the sudden."

"So how'd you guys get out?" Glenn asked, voice soft.

Sam answered, knowing with just a glance that her companion wasn't going to be up for story-telling. "Kaylee was fixing the pipes when I started to hear the screams. We ran outside and, well… found a new use for pipe wrenches. Jumped in the car to go get her family from the hotel, but only her dad was left, so…" She trailed off there, and Kaylee tried to blink back the tears threatening to form in her eyes. "You?"

"I was on a delivery and got chased by a group of 'em. T-Dog," he glanced back at a black man standing a few feet away with another group of people, "and his sister were driving around picking people up. Saved my ass." He turned sad dark eyes on Kaylee. "Sorry about your family."

"Thanks," she murmured, suddenly done with talking. "I think I'm gonna go find Dad." She excused herself quietly before trudging further down the hill, work boots snapping twigs in the grass.

Dad heard her coming and adjusted the cap on his head. The mechanic's thin face, usually lit with a smile, was worn and blood-spattered from the events of the day. Kaylee was sure her own face looked similarly strained.

"We got a plan?" she asked quietly, meeting his tired gaze. He glanced around uneasily for a moment before answering in a low voice.

"You remember Miranda Morales?"

She nodded. "She works in the Admissions Office."

"She and her family are joining up with a group they met on the road. Sounds like they plan on hunkering down somewhere until things calm down a bit. Miranda said we could probably jump in if we wanted to."

"You met these others?"

"A few," he shrugged. "Seemed like reasonable people. A cop and his wife. Two sisters. An old man and a couple others. Sounded like there were a couple kids too. What do you think?"

"I think we've got nowhere else to go," she replied carefully, realizing their precarious position. They didn't have many resources to offer a group, other than their skill set. "All we managed to grab on the way out was Sam's stuff any my tool bag."

"That's about what I was thinking."

She took in the faces on the hill for the first time, wondering who they were – what they'd been before today. Her stomach turned unexpectedly when she wondered how many of them would be left when morning came. "Where's this cop? I'd like to talk to him."

He pointed casually off to the right where the group Glenn's friend was in stood talking in low voices. "Officer Walsh, I think it was." Dad pulled her into a quick hug before letting her wander over to the other party. She kept a watch on Sam out of the corner of her eye, making a mental note to warn off Glenn before anything else happened. The apparent apocalypse didn't seem to be the place for what was sure to be a messy breakup.

"Officer Walsh?" The man who turned to face her was tall and powerfully built, intense dark eyes skimming over her analytically. His hands rested on his hips, thumbs tucked into the waistband of his green uniform pants, never far from the weapon on his hip.

"Yeah?" He almost seemed surprised to be approached. The dark-haired woman at his side looked her over with a combination of curiosity and fear, as did the others standing with them – an old man in a bucket hat, the black man Glenn had called "T-Dog," and Mr. Morales. "I know you?"

Kaylee didn't balk at his gaze, although an old joke about engineers ran through her head briefly, bringing a small smirk to her otherwise solemn expression._ The typical engineer will look at his own shoes when he's talking. A social one will look at _your_ shoes._ Kaylee refused to even glance at the man's shoes, although she would admit that she was tempted. She couldn't afford to look weak in addition to unprepared. "I'm a friend of Mrs. Morales. She was talking to my dad and mentioned you're setting up some kind of plan for getting off the roads. I was wondering if you might be able to take a couple more."

"How many of you are there?"

"Three. Me, my dad, and a friend we picked up along the way. She's over there making conversation."

He glanced over and nodded in thought. "Glenn's already with us. Y'all useful?" His eyes flickered down to the logo on her shirt and her tool belt.

"Dad's a mechanic. Sam's a programmer, but I'm sure we can find something else for her to do," she shrugged. "I'm an engineer."

He looked her over one more time, and Kaylee tried not to take it personally. There were people to keep safe, and the cop couldn't afford to take too many chances. His gaze lingered for a moment on the wrench hanging from her hip, noticing the blood, bone fragments, and brain matter splattered across its surface. At last he nodded. "Alright then. Dale over here says he knows a good spot up in the hills we might be able to hole up in. Grab your car and drive back this way along the shoulder. We'll take the back roads – try and get away from all these people before something happens. That RV over there is Dale's, so you know what to look for. If y'all aren't here when we move out, we're leaving ya. Understand?"

She nodded and strode purposefully away, calling for Dad and Sam to follow her quickly. Glenn tagged along, hesitating just long enough to get a nod off affirmation from T-Dog and Officer Walsh before jogging to catch up. No one asked her what the hurry was – there were people starting to scream in the distance.


	2. Chapter 1 - Spitfire

**Here ya go! Chapter two. **** Thank you for reading! Please review if you get the chance. I really appreciate the feedback – and since this is my first TWD story, I might need some help getting some of the timeline straight, lol. **

**Enjoy. :D**

**~†~**

She was working on the gear box in Dale's boat when her ears caught the telltale roar of a motorcycle approaching. Glenn and Sam had gone into Atlanta on a run about an hour ago – too soon for them to be back quite yet – so she tuned out the distraction in favor of working on the boat. Shane and the others could handle whatever else was going on. Dale hadn't used the boat in years and in addition to a few leaks that had sprung up in the hull, both the chain and the cogs in the motor were corroded. Kaylee wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to fix it.

The cop was having some sort of conversation on the other side of the RV with someone whose voice she didn't recognize. A few people were wandering over to investigate – new people weren't exactly commonplace these days, especially this far away from the main road – but Kaylee kept to the repairs. She was going to need some grease, at the very least, if the old man wanted this damn thing fixed. And a new chain if she could find one.

"Aren't you going to go say 'hello'?" Dad's voice drifted down over her shoulder, sounding slightly amused.

"In a bit, I guess. Little busy right now."

"Doing what, exactly?"

Kaylee glanced back with a sigh, taking in the sight of Dad in his oil-stained blue coveralls. His baseball cap was skewed to one side, and she could tell he'd been working with Dale on repairing the RV along with some of the other vehicles. His skin was flushed red in the summer heat and he was drenched head-to-toe in sweat, making Kaylee feel less self conscious about her own bedraggled appearance. She had no idea how Lori and Sam and Amy managed to still look so damn perfect all the time when even the shower in the RV was a luxury enjoyed perhaps once a week.

She turned back to the rusted chain, trying to get it settled on the gears. The repair didn't have to be perfect – it just had to run well enough for a little while. Glenn and Sam were supposed to be keeping a lookout for another boat of some kind, but the sooner they could get the aluminum wreck in front of her on the water the better. If all else failed, she could always build a pair of oars and give up on the motor altogether.

"Dale thought Andrea and Amy could go fishing down at the quarry if I could get the boat running. He's got a couple of leaks, and it looks like he dumped the gearbox in saltwater or something. Damn thing is pretty fucked up."

"You could have just used sawhorses, you know," he chuckled, nudging the overturned laundry baskets wedged beneath the boat. The makeshift support shifted under the gentle force, causing the whole structure to shift slightly. Kaylee glared up at her father.

"You were using them. Speaking of which, are you done with my tools yet?"

"Dale's got 'em."

She made a noise of irritation in the back of her throat. "Remind me again why I wanted to join up with these people?"

He laughed. "They're not that bad."

Her eyebrow rose involuntarily, matching the dry tone of her voice. "Shane used my hacksaw to cut firewood yesterday. The blade is completely warped, and he won't even consider replacing it. 'What use is a saw that can't cut wood?' he said. Idiot. Can you believe that? Not my fault he didn't know enough to see he had the wrong kind of blade on it."

He shrugged, a small smile on his face. Kaylee could have smacked him for knowing her so well. All her grumbling and complaining would never be enough to convince him she was really upset with her decision to come to the quarry. She just hadn't had any time to herself in two weeks, and having to be pleasant and social to everyone all day long was beginning to really grate on her.

"How's the boat coming?" smiled Amy, on her way back from whatever excitement was going on around the corner.

"No, wait! Don't sit – " Before Dad could finish his warning, the young woman had plopped firmly down onto the edge of the boat.The chain in Kaylee's hands slipped unexpectedly at the movement, and she found herself falling back into the dirt, cheek stinging somethin' fierce.

**~†~**

He was just turning the corner, walking slowly behind his brother and avoiding the curious glances and questions of the small crowd that had gathered around them, when he was met with the sounds of a woman cursing. Merle laughed loudly ahead of him, earning a sharp glare from the sweat and dirt streaked form stomping angrily towards the RV. Blood flowed freely from a cut beneath her eye, and the young blonde girl he'd met a few minutes before – he couldn't remember her name – followed behind her, apologizing profusely with every step.

"Dale!" she shouted, ignoring the blonde. "You're getting a rowboat!"

The old man peered over the edge of his perch. "What, you couldn't fix it?"

She crossed dirty arms across her chest, halting unexpectedly and leaving the other girl to stumble to avoid a collision. "Not unless you know where to find a new set of gears and a chain that isn't rusted through. I suggest you say your goodbyes to that piece of shit motor."

The man squinted down at her. "You bleeding? What the hell happened?"

She didn't answer – just strode into the RV and slammed the door behind her. Everyone but Merle, who too used to Daryl's outbursts to be phased by someone else's, seemed to be stunned to silence, looking to the blonde for an explanation.

"I just sat on the boat," she said quietly, and Daryl glanced over at the scene of the crime – a toppled aluminum boat with holes in the bottom and two mismatched, plastic laundry baskets lying on their sides.

"And then one of the teeth snapped off a gear and went flying," a man in mechanic's overalls supplied, looking somewhat irritated – if slightly amused.

"Into my fucking face! Whenever I do something to try and help around here I get yelled at, argued with, or hurt. I'm done! Next time someone wants a chair built or a car fixed or some other bullshit, do it yourselves!" came the muffled shout from inside the RV. Daryl shifted uncomfortably on his feet and adjusted the crossbow on his shoulder, trying not to draw attention to himself even as Merle began to laugh in earnest.

"Well ain't she a little spitfire," he chuckled, always needing to comment when he shouldn't. "Didn't even wanna say hello."

The door on the RV swung open with a bang, and the woman stepped out, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt clutched tightly in her fist. "Hi," she smiled, too sweetly. Her voice dripped with false sincerity. "Welcome to camp. I'm Kaylee, nice to meet you." She turned back to the rest of the group, smile falling from her face. "I'm going down to the quarry to clean up. If anyone follows me, I will kill them. You can consider this your warning."

Merle whistled as she stalked away, and thankfully no one decided to comment. Daryl ran a rough hand through his grimy hair. When that Asian kid they'd met on the road had mentioned they had a small lake at their disposal, he'd started to look forward to going for a swim – at the very least to find reprieve from the oppressive humidity of the Georgia summer. Looked like he'd have to wait, though. Not for the first time today, he found himself questioning Merle's decision to "join up" with another group. With a sigh, he reminded himself it was temporary – he could handle subjecting himself to other people's priorities for a few days if it meant he got to eat for the next month.

"That gonna happen often?" The cop hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and looked expectantly at the mechanic, frustration written clearly on his face.

The other man – whose name was Jim if the patch on his coveralls was anything to go by – shrugged noncommittally. Daryl got the feeling the mechanic rarely lost his temper, judging by how he easily brushed off the cop's accusatory tone along with the apparent fury of the woman disappearing into the trees. "She just needs some time to cool off," he muttered, attention already shifting elsewhere. "She'll be fine in an hour or so – doesn't like being around people all the time."

"Well, you make sure that's the case, 'lright Jim?" The cop's dark eyes bored into him. "Don't need people explodin' left and right over the little stuff. Ya got me?" The mechanic nodded and gave a small smile before wandering over to where the grill on the large tan vehicle hung open. "I guess the quarry's gonna be unavailable for a while to you gentlemen." Daryl flicked his gaze up to meet the cop's scowl. "The RV's got a shower if you're in a hurry to get cleaned up. Otherwise we've got a pot of beans on the fire o'er there. Chow should be ready in a bit. We'll get the chores divvied up for y'all tomorrow – jus' get your stuff set up and take a load off for a while."

"Thank ya kindly, Officer," Merle drawled, smiling that overly sweet smile of his. Daryl tried not to grimace at his brother's attempt to be charming, wondering how long the thin façade would last. "I'm thinkin' this setup'll work real well for the both of us. Ain't that right, little brother?"

Daryl only nodded shortly before glancing around at the group peeling off to go to their separate chores. Laundry hung drying on a line between the trees. A small group of kids and their moms were sitting down at a small folding table – presumably to do homework or some such nonsense. He'd never found much use for the little education he had even before the world ended, let alone now. Grammar wasn't like to save your ass from them things wanderin' 'round.

"Think I'm gonna go check out that RV – get outta this heat a while." Merle's bright blue eyes caught his own for a moment, and Daryl didn't need to be told what his brother meant. Truck wasn't gonna unload itself. He held back the sharp retort rising in his throat, knowing it wouldn't do him any good. No use arguing with a brick wall.

"Saw a spot over by the trees that looked pretty good," he said quietly, jerking his head to the side to indicate the direction he meant. "I'll go set up over there."

His brother's large hand clapped him on the shoulder. "Play nice, Darylina," he drawled with a wink. Daryl grimaced at the nickname and the unwanted memories that came with it. "You just remember what we talked about on the way over here, got it? We need this to work out."

"Screw you, Merle." He shrugged off the hand on his shoulder and spun on his heel, striding towards his truck, spitting off to the side as he walked. He'd pay for that later, probably, but he didn't much care. World went to shit and suddenly Merle wanted to turn thief. Honor hadn't ever been real high on the list of Dixon family virtues, but pride sure had. And Daryl's pride wasn't too keen on takin' shit he hadn't earned – whether it was given in charity or not. What'd he need cans of beans and spinach and whatever else for? He had his crossbow and skills he'd learned over a lifetime of fending for himself.

He gathered up the camping gear he'd scavenged on his way out of the hills, slamming the tailgate on his truck closed with his foot. Fuck Merle and his plans. Asshole'd be too high in the mornin' to do anything anyway.


	3. Chapter 2 - Beans

**Thank you to ****MAR76**** for reviewing! No, this will not be a Caryl story. Although I like Carol as a character, her quick turnaround from Daryl to Axel and back to Daryl in Season 3 kinda ruined the Carol X Daryl dynamic for me. **

**Your feedback really means a lot to me! I know this story has a bit of a slow start, but I'd really like to know what y'all think of the concept and my OCs. SO PLEASE REVIEW! **

**~†~**

The sun had gone down before she made it back from the quarry, and Daryl had just sat down on a fallen log to polish off a meager helping of baked beans. She wandered into the circle of firelight so quietly he almost reached for his crossbow in surprise before the old man called her name.

"Gettin' a little jumpy there, little brother," Merle chuckled condescendingly. Daryl shoved a forkful of beans into his mouth, shrugging off the tension that had gathered in his neck as his brother got up to take a piss. He had a hard time believing this place was as safe as everyone here said it was. Granted, he didn't feel the need to get up and patrol the woods for potential threats, but he couldn't get himself to relax as much as he'd hoped. Nowhere was safe – only less dangerous. When Kaylee had wandered away earlier, Daryl had almost expected her not to come back.

But there she was, auburn hair glinting in the light as she smiled apologetically at Amy and Dale, and the hunter tried to convince himself that maybe they were right. Safety in numbers. Wasn't that the idea?

Yeah, right. "Safety in numbers" had worked out real well for those pricks in the city.

"Hi."

He blinked in surprise at the woman standing awkwardly in front of him, his mouth still half-full of beans. He'd never really liked beans, and hunger somehow wasn't making them any better.

"I wanted to apologize," she continued when he didn't answer. Her accent was some strange mixture of the familiar southern twang he was so used to hearing and the bland, flat, unexciting "normal" so common with the city-folk. "For earlier. I didn't mean to snap at y'all – especially when you'd just got here. I was maybe hoping we could just start over."

Her deep blue eyes met his anxiously, and Daryl thought with a smirk that she was about as practiced at apologizing as he was at being apologized to. Her apparent nervousness somehow put him at ease.

"'s 'lright," he muttered, unsure of exactly what she wanted him to do and why she was looking down at him so curiously. He pushed his uneaten food around on the plastic plate even as his stomach growled. "Merle can be kinda an asshole sometimes. If he didn't deserve it now, he'll sure earn it later."

"Merle's your brother?" Daryl nodded in response as she chuckled softly and hesitantly took a seat on the edge of the log, planting her worn work boots firmly in the dirt. It felt kinda strange to have someone sitting so close, even though there was a good eight inches or so between them, and he found himself hoping Merle wasn't watching. Daryl had never been particularly good with women, and his brother had always made a point of highlighting his discomfort, knowing full well it only made things worse. Uncle Jess was the only one who'd ever tried to be helpful on the subject – though the old man hadn't had the most sterling track record, himself. "Just find somethin' to talk about," he'd said. "Treat 'em the same you would 'nybody else."

Problem was, he didn't have much of anything to say to anybody else most of the time.

"Jim's your dad?" It was something of a lame attempt at conversation, but oh well. She was the one who started it. Couldn't just let him enjoy his already-lackluster "supper" in peace.

She nodded and gave him a small smile. "Kaylee Hamilton."

"I remember," he smirked, watching the blush of embarrassment rise into her cheeks. She was pretty, in that way some girls are without really trying. Could tell she didn't know it, though, just by the way she seemed to tense up whenever he looked over at her. Her shirt – he thought it must have once been a sweatshirt, but the sleeves had been ripped off at some point a while ago, and it had been washed so many times it didn't look much thicker than a t-shirt – hung gently from her lean frame, exposing her collarbone and a thin scratch running across the side of her neck, no more than a few days old. "Daryl Dixon."

"Dale said you two came down outta the hills?"

"Yeah."

"Took ya this long to get over to Atlanta?"

"Wandered around a bit first," he shrugged, still playing with his food. He _really_ didn't like beans. "Guess Merle was hopin' that refugee center they were talkin' 'bout on the radio was still up 'n' runnin'."

She winced. "Yeah, not so much."

"Figured." He stole a glance at the faded mascot decorating one side of her torso. The image, though cracked and peeling in some places, was still pretty unmistakable. "You're a yellow jacket?"

"I was," she frowned, gaze clouding with thought. "Guess I still am – not that it means much these days. Don't think I'll be completing my Masters anytime soon."

"Knew a couple guys wh' went up there." Hadn't been real fond of 'em neither. College kids hadn't really ever been his favorite people. Always lookin' down their noses at him like their fancy diplomas made 'em smarter or more righteous or somethin' stupid like that. But none of them knew a deer track from a pig's – and he didn't see any of them walking 'round now, either. Well, not _alive_ and walking.

"Yeah?" she snorted, glaring off at the road momentarily. "Me too." Not the reaction he'd expected.

"Didn' like it much?"

She shrugged, softening a little. Daryl was surprisingly glad he hadn't upset her – so far she was the only person in the camp other than Merle who had tried to talk to him. The others had seemed more than content to let his brother do all the story telling. "Liked it well enough to stay for six years. I didn't really have many friends, though. Mostly I guess I just hung out with Sam and studied and worked. Not really too exciting."

He glanced over questioningly and caught her eye momentarily.

"Sam's with Glenn on the Atlanta run. Shane said y'all met up on the highway this morning."

Daryl remembered the honey-eyed woman well. High combat boots paired with jeans and a top so tight he'd thought she'd pop out of 'em – somehow he couldn't quite picture the grease monkey seated beside him spending much of any time with the inky-haired rebel he'd met earlier. His surprise must have shown on his face, because Kaylee laughed lightly before commenting.

"It's complicated." There was a haunted twinge to the amusement twinkling brightly in her eyes, and Daryl decided he didn't really want to ask for an explanation.

"Ya like beans?" They were cold now, and he was about ready to get rid of them any way he could – short of actually eating them. Even the hunger gnawing at his stomach wasn't enough to overcome the unappetizing nature of the brown mush now stuck to his fork.

"Love 'em," she laughed. He couldn't stop the half-hearted grimace that jumped to his face. Who the hell liked beans?

"Here." He unceremoniously tossed the plate towards her, feeling better already.

"What, you're not hungry?"

"Not for beans."

"End of the world and you're a picky eater." She picked up the fork.

He shrugged, stretching his legs out in front of him and feeling his joints pop and crack with the effort. He was really looking forward to not having to sleep in his truck for the first time since leaving home. "Ain't picky. Just don' like beans."He rubbed his eyes tiredly as she relieved him of the mush, resigning himself to going hunting with Merle sometime tomorrow.

**~†~**

Sam shoved the door of her old yellow MiniCooper closed, tired as hell from the day's efforts. Atlanta was a mess – no question about it. And every time Glenn dragged her out into the city to scavenge, she began to seriously question her sanity – or what was left of it. Although they'd managed to somehow break into a small, apparently unpopular grocery store on the outskirts of the wreckage, she was still somewhat disappointed with what little they'd found. A few bags of rice, maybe two dozen or so cans of fruit and vegetables, and a bag of sprouting potatoes they'd have to put some effort into making edible. With a group as big as theirs – and judging by the unfamiliar vehicles parked in front of her, it was getting even _bigger_ – Sam knew it wouldn't last long, even if they rationed. They'd have to venture further into the city on their next run, and she wasn't entirely confident that just she and Glenn would be able to handle it.

A dark lock of hair fell into her face as she hefted a bag of rice over her shoulder, smiling at those who called out a greeting and asked how the run had gone. Mostly she let Glenn answer their questions. Normally, she would have liked the attention to center on her after a stressful day – maybe do some harmless flirting or spend some time talking about nothing in particular. But for whatever reason, she wasn't in the mood. Too tired maybe? Or maybe she was just – what was the term Kaylee had used? – oh, right. "Getting over herself."

She smiled at the memory of the engineer telling her off. It happened fairly often, if she was honest – and Sam couldn't really blame her. They hadn't met on the best of terms – they didn't really remain friends on the best of terms either – but she had a great deal of respect for the woman, even if Sam did her best to antagonize her on a regular basis.

Admittedly, it was a bit more than antagonize – but the basic concept was the same. They had something of a complicated relationship, to say the least, and most people wouldn't really call it a "friendship" as much as a forced companionship, but Sam loved her in her own way. Aside from some misplaced sense of responsibility for her, she had no idea why Kaylee looked after her so well – or even why she'd stayed around for so long, especially considering how they'd met. But the older woman had saved her life more times than she could count, even before the world ended, although her ego had often suffered for the saving.

When Sam's golden gaze met her friend's sapphire one, the engineer was sitting on a log next to a new face – a ruggedly handsome new face, if she said so herself. She smirked to herself as Kaylee excused herself from whatever conversation she was having to come say hello. The man on the log – who Sam thought she might have remembered glimpsing through the windshield of his truck earlier today – continued to study her friend as she walked away, his intense gaze following her every move up until the unfortunate appearance of his brother from the trees. She scowled a little, internally. Sam definitely remembered _him._

"Hey." Kaylee gave her a small smile, and Sam couldn't help but grin back at her friend. Ever since they'd left Atlanta, the engineer had been swinging back and forth between being irritable or downright apathetic. Granted, walking in to a hotel lobby to find your mother and sister being torn apart and your dad looking on in absolute shock would probably cause some mental and emotional turmoil in just about anyone, so Sam had made it her mission the last couple weeks to be on her best behavior and to try and cheer her up a little. Kaylee deserved support – more than her dad was able to give her at this point. Yet even with all her efforts, this was the first time she'd managed to get a smile out.

"Hi. Looks like you've made a friend," she winked conspiratorially, sending a pointed glance to the brothers – who were conveniently out of earshot and on the other side of the low campfire.

"And it seems like I have you to blame for it."

She shrugged. "Blame Glenn, it was his idea. The older one kinda rubs me the wrong way, so I didn't get involved much in the inviting business." She paused long enough to pass Kaylee a box of cans. "So what's his name?"

"Daryl Dixon. Other one's Merle." They started trudging back to the small stockpile of food they'd been keeping to drop off the load before going back to the car for the last few supplies. Shane and some of the others had gotten up to help, so the work was going surprisingly fast.

"What were you talking about?" Getting gossip out of Kaylee was like pulling teeth sometimes, but she knew her interest was appreciated on some level by the blush creeping up into her cheeks.

"I was apologizing."

"For?"

"I kinda blew up earlier about the boat." She set the second box of cans down on top of the other and straightened her shirt, fiddling with the hem of it for a moment before continuing. Sam tossed another bag of rice on the pile. "They'd just shown up, and I guess it was just the wrong place at the wrong time. Merle said something and I ended up down at the quarry for most of the day, just about ready to drive my wrench into the next person who talked to me."

Sam laughed loudly, drawing curious glances from across the fire pit. "Trust you to screw up first impressions."

The other woman glared half-heartedly. "'S what happens when you're not there to make me be social."

"Is that an 'I missed you, Sam'? 'I was worried about you, Sam'?"

"A bit. You're usually back earlier."

She shrugged. "Most of the places we went to were cleaned out or overrun. Seems like it's getting harder and harder to find what we need."

"Does that mean no new boat?" She was teasing, and Sam found herself grinning again. Either her outburst or the redneck had loosened her up a bit, and she didn't much care which. Hell, maybe it was both – though Kaylee would never admit it.

"And no new hacksaw blade – even if I knew what to look for."

"Shane would just ruin it again anyway," she shrugged, glancing back over her shoulder at the happily chatting group around the fire. Sam couldn't help the smirk settling on her face.

"Don't," Kaylee scowled, and Sam's smirk grew back into a grin, though she was doing her best to look as innocent as possible.

"Don't what?"

"You always give me that same look when you're about to go meddle around in my business. So don't."

"You need to loosen up a little, Kay."

"And you need to keep your hands out of it. This is neither the time nor the place – we've talked about this already."

"For me, not for you."

"Sam – "

"Sex doesn't need 'a time or a place.' It's just sex. So go get some!" She'd gone just a tad too far, judging by Kaylee's sudden change in facial expression, and she immediately felt rather guilty about it. The engineer looked almost haunted, a dark glint of both anger and regret in her blue eyes as they bored into Sam.

"You and I think about that _very_ differently."

Sam opened her mouth to respond, but thought better of it. She was right – Sam had never taken relationships particularly seriously, and she had hurt more people than she wanted to remember because of it. That being said, she wasn't entirely sure her friend's habit of pushing people away was any less destructive. She apologized quietly.

"'S alright." As quickly as it had come, those painful memories faded from the woman's gaze as she sighed, gesturing for Sam to follow her back to the rest of the group.


	4. Chapter 3 - A Camp-wide Conspiracy

**HI! Thank you to ****MAR76 ****(and a Guest) for reviewing! Sorry for the late update. I promise I'll be better about them in the future. Getting past this pre-first season stuff is hard when I have so many plot bunnies wandering around in my head for the future. *sigh* Can't wait to get there.**

**PLEASE REVIEW! Your feedback is the incentive for me to post. Hard to write if there's no one who wants to read, yeah?**

**~†~**

"Hey, squirt," Kaylee smiled over at the glum looking twelve-year-old trudging by. Sophia's big grey eyes flashed up at her in surprise and some small measure of disappointment, as if she'd been trying to get through camp without anyone noticing her. The engineer had noticed the girl tried to do that a lot – no doubt it had something to do with her father's watchful gaze and the bruises she and her mother periodically showed up with. Today, however, Ed was down at the quarry to supervise laundry day. "You busy?"

The girl glanced up for a moment before shaking her head.

"Wanna help me fix the boat? Not quite as exciting as making chairs out of tires, but you might learn something." Sophia brightened up momentarily before she seemed to remember something.

"Daddy says I'm not to help you anymore. Says you're a bad influence."

Kaylee raised her eyebrows, holding back the scowl threatening to form on her face. "Oh does he now?" Bastard. Of course he'd call her a "bad influence." His daughter had a good head on her shoulders – fast learner, and she was starting to learn her way around the toolbox. The last few times she'd helped Kaylee out around camp, the girl's confidence had just about skyrocketed – and she imagined Ed didn't like that so much. "And what does your momma say?"

"She doesn't say anything."

Yup. Suspicions confirmed. "Well," she winked conspiratorially. "I'll just have to help _you_ fix the boat then. You up to it?"

She was rewarded with a grin spreading across the girl's face and an enthusiastic nod. Sophia skipped excitedly over to where Kaylee had some materials laid out next to the boat – which was supported by sawhorses this time. She was done with laundry baskets.

"So what've we got, boss?"

Sophia took stock carefully, and Kaylee watched her young student begin to get the wheels in her head to turn. "Tarp, some rope, and your toolbox."

"_Your_ toolbox," she corrected, smiling. "You're in charge, so the tools are yours today, too."

The girl grinned.

"So what's the problem we've gotta fix?"

"Boat's got holes in it."

"How do we fix it?"

"Cover it with the tarp?"

"Could work. But what's all around the quarry?"

"Rocks," she frowned. "It'll tear."

"Right. So what do we do?"

Kaylee could almost see the light bulb flash on above her head. "We could patch it with sections of the tarp. That way we could put layers of it on the holes so it won't rip as easy."

"Very clever." Sophia beamed at the praise. "How're you gonna get the patches on there?"

The girl frowned for a moment, thinking.

"What's the most important thing in your toolbox?" Kaylee prompted.

"Saftey goggles?" The girl tilted her head, confused. Kaylee laughed for a minute, glad the girl had remembered their previous lesson on power tools.

"The _other_ most important thing in your toolbox?"

"Oh! Duct tape." Sophia fished around in the tools, producing two rolls of the silvery stuff and holding them out proudly.

"Good! What now?"

"We cut the tarp?"

"Yup." Kaylee pulled a utility knife out of her back pocket, holding it pointedly in front of her. "Remember what we talked about with these?" Sophia nodded, grey eyes serious. "Good. You cut yourself, it's gonna hurt. And your momma's gonna be upset with me."

"Aren't you going to do the cutting part?" She looked uncertainly at the gleaming razorblade.

"Nope. It's your project, squirt. I'm just here to help with the heavy lifting if you really need it." When the frown continued to stick, she gave the girl an encouraging smile. "You can do this. Doesn't have to be perfect or pretty. As long as it floats for a little while and you don't hurt yourself, we'll call it a success. If it sinks, we'll call it a learning experience. No pressure, right?"

Sophia smiled, confidence growing.

"Just be safe, okay? Use the marker and the square to draw out what you're gonna cut, then don't let your fingers get in the way. Take your time – nobody's gonna yell at you. I'm here if you need help with something, okay? I'll keep a lookout for your daddy so you don't get in trouble."

The girl grinned as the engineer handed over the knife. "Have at it, squirt."

As the twelve-year-old started measuring out square patches from the large blue tarp, Kaylee took a seat in a nearby lawn chair, watching with pride. Before too long, though, the afternoon sun started getting high in the sky, and she went on a short trip to find a pair of water bottles.

"What's goin' on over there?" Lori, who looked like she'd also had the bright idea of making sure everyone was staying hydrated, glanced over at Sophia organizing the squares she'd cut into piles according to size. Apparently she'd taken the "keep your workspace clean" lesson to heart.

Kaylee shrugged. "Gave her a project. Our dear Mr. Peletier doesn't want her helping me anymore. Figured that was a cue to give her something to do on her own."

"Be careful with that," the older woman cautioned, brown eyes grave. "Don't wanna make things any worse than they already are."

"Nobody's gonna tell that asshole anything. As long as he doesn't catch her red handed and the rest of us keep a tight reign on our tongues while he's around, I don 't think he's gonna find out until it's too late. Sophia's smart, she just needs some confidence."

Lori considered her thoughtfully for a moment before nodding, handing her a pair of bottles. "I'll ask Dale to keep a lookout. He'll be sure to warn you when Ed starts back up to camp."

**~†~**

It didn't take long for most of the camp to get in on the idea of giving Sophia some time away from her dad. Shane tried to keep the man busy as much as possible with a long list of fairly remedial tasks, which conveniently needed to be handled down at the quarry – or up at the camp, as the case was the day Kaylee took Sophia down to test the boat on the water. Carol discovered a knack for coming up with excuses for why her daughter wasn't in her family's immediate vicinity – chores, schooling, and the like – and no one needed to be told twice to back her up on whatever she told her husband. Even Merle – who often made snide and condescending comments about women and tools – and Daryl – who mostly seemed to keep to himself – lent a hand, keeping a lookout for the least-liked member of the group or stalling the man whenever ha came a little too close to catching the girls at their work.

Between teaching Sophia – and occasionally Carl and the Morales kids – and trying to keep up with some of the other chores around camp, time passed quickly for Kaylee. And before two weeks were through, they were running low on supplies again. Nearly all the cans Sam and Glenn had brought were hanging empty on strings tied between the trees (Dad's idea of a warning system). They still had plenty of rice on hand, but grains alone were only going to get them so far when they had four growing children, as well as nearly thirty full-grown adults, to keep healthy.

Wednesday morning, Glenn announced the plan to go deeper into the city to look for food and supplies. By the time the sun went down, nearly half the camp had volunteered to leave the next day. Dinner, needless to say, was tense. They'd gotten into the habit of mixing together at meals, groups and families intermingling (with the exceptions of the Peletiers and the Dixons, who always sat together and apart from the rest of the group) and interacting. With the impending separation of the morning looming overhead, however, they found themselves sitting together in small isolated groups, picking at their rice and laughing halfheartedly.

When morning came, Kaylee rose early, pushing her way out of the tent she shared with Dad and Sam and breathing in the cool, crisp air. It was unusual for her – before the world ended she rarely got up before ten in the morning unless absolutely necessary. Since the hotel lobby, however… well, sleep – and more specifically, dreaming – wasn't exactly on her list of favorite things to do anymore.

The sun was just beginning to peek up over the tree line as she wandered over to casually lean on the RV, crossing her arms over her chest and contenting herself to simply watch the pale colors of sunrise begin to streak across the sky. Jessie had always loved sunrises. She tried to picture her sister's smile – she'd had Dad's big hazel eyes, so often crinkled with laughter, and his dark curls framing her face in gentle ringlets. She'd been beautiful, even at the end. But Kaylee could barely remember her now without reliving those last, short minutes – seeing her hand reach out in desperation even as their teeth had sunk deep into her flesh. If there was a God, she knew she could never forgive Him for the way Jessie had to die.

The sound of gentle, even footfalls reached her ears, and she wiped away the tears that had begun to form in her eyes with the back of her hand. The steps were too controlled to belong to a walker, but she glanced over her shoulder just in case, relieved to see the younger of the two Dixon brothers yawning and scratching his head. Kaylee hadn't spent much time alone with the man since his first night in camp, and she couldn't really say that she'd made much of an effort to seek him out. She interacted enough with Merle on a daily basis – most of it not particularly pleasant – that she didn't feel the need to intrude on the Dixon's little section of camp for fear of tripping across the junkie. What little interactions she'd had with Daryl, however, had been during these small hours of the morning. It seemed neither of them slept well anymore.

His usually sharp blue eyes were cloudy with the last remnants of troubled sleep as he offered her one of the two water bottles he'd been carrying. As with most of his clothing, the dirt and sweat stained tan shirt had seen better days. Upon closer inspection, Kaylee thought it looked as if it had once been a long-sleeved thermal shirt. Considering her own shirt this morning, although clean by comparison, had also once had sleeves, she didn't feel like she had much room to judge, though she found Daryl's evident dislike of the now-discarded sections of his shirts somewhat amusing.

"You goin' on the run?" His voice was low as he sipped on the water.

She shook her head, no. There was a small part of her that thought it might do her some good to face the city again – chase away the ghosts haunting her memories. But she knew she wasn't ready yet. And there was always that chance one or two of the "geeks," as Glenn had taken to calling them, would hit her particularly close to home.

"Not this time." The RV shifted slightly as he leaned against it. He never asked about life before or who she'd lost or left behind, and she didn't mind returning the favor. Mostly they spent the mornings talking about nothing, if they talked at all. But there was always that sense of quiet, oddly comforting acceptance that had developed between them. Pain was pain, and memories were memories. The world pretty much sucked. What more was there to say?

"You?" she asked. Merle had been rather vocal about his desire to go with the group. Daryl hadn't really said much about it yesterday, one way or the other.

"Naw." His gaze shifted off into the trees, and Kaylee felt the small knot of tension that had grown in her stomach release just a little bit. "Think I'll go huntin'. Dunno wha' they're gonna be able t' find out there."

They stood in silence for a while, just watching the sunrise and waiting patiently for camp to begin to stir. Daryl's gaze kept moving anxiously towards his brother's tent.

"Merle high again?" she asked quietly, a gentle, knowing smile tugging softly at the corners of her mouth. In the short time the Dixons had been there, it was already common knowledge the older of the two indulged his addiction near nightly, if not more often than that. Kaylee wasn't entirely sure what he was on, but the man wasn't particularly pleasant most of the time when he was _sober_. Mostly they all tried to steer clear of him as much as possible – same as they did with Ed when they could.

He nodded, eyes on the ground as he scuffed the dirt a bit with a worn shoe. "He'll run out eventually, I guess."

"Won't _that_ be fun."

That won a small chuckle out of him. "Could be worse."

She smiled a little. "'Spose so." Maybe the advent Merle's withdrawal would be enough incentive for her to get out of camp and go on a run. The muffled sounds of people waking up inside their tents drifted to her ears, and Kaylee began to prepare herself to say goodbye to Sam again – and, perhaps more importantly, to her toolbox. T-Dog had asked her to part with it yesterday and, in spite of Kaylee's suggestion that they hit a hardware store on the way into the city and get their _own_ stuff, she had little choice but to give in at the end. She didn't think she'd be able to handle it if someone died because they didn't have a wrench or a screwdriver when they needed one.

If it came to a hacksaw, though… She'd have to remember to tell T-Dog about that.


	5. Chapter 4 - Officer Friendly

**Sorry for the late update. Moving sucks. :/ Finally got into season 1 in the story! By the way, I do not condone Merle's language – just a forewarning.**

**On a side note, who saw the season 4 trailer! So excited.. October needs to come faster!**

**Ok. On with the story **

**~†~**

Sam wandered aimlessly around the lower level of the department store, waiting with the rest of the group while Glenn tried to save the poor idiot trapped in the tank across the street. Every once in a while, she'd see something that might possibly be useful – shoelaces, plastic bags, sturdy clothing, socks – and would shove it unceremoniously into her backpack. A small voice in her head – a voice which sounded suspiciously like Kaylee's – reminded her that she'd probably be able to fit more into the pack if she did a bit of organizing, but she pointedly ignored it. With the small crowd gathered outside the store windows, she figured exercising her ability to assess spatial relations wasn't going to do her much of any good anyway.

It had been a mistake to bring so many people – that much was obvious. More people meant more noise, more opportunity for mistakes. They could bring back more stuff, true. But it didn't seem to really be worth the extra risk.

She added a package of underwear to her collection before glancing back at the door. The glass was beginning to spider web beneath the relentless pounding, and the group of survivors in the store didn't seem to be doing much to ensure their own survival. They simply stood and watched, completely at a loss as to what to do. Andrea paced angrily and fiddled with the pistol in her hands – Sam was glad the safety was still on as she wasn't sure the woman knew the first thing about how to handle the weapon. Morales and T-Dog, both covered head-to-toe in Kevlar and armed with two sad-looking aluminum baseball bats, waited anxiously at the door to the side alley, listening carefully to the static on the radio for any transmission from Glenn. There really wasn't much of anything to do other than wait.

She started clipping aluminum water bottles to her backpack, being sure to slip them through the crisscrossing bungee cords she'd added to the shoulder straps for just that purpose. Two runs ago, she'd learned the hard way that the noise of clanking bottles drew a little bit too much attention to herself. So did gunshots, apparently – if their current situation was anything to go by. As she glanced back at the walkers again, the radio clipped to her belt came alive with Glenn's frantic voice.

"I'm back! Got a guest. Plus four geeks in the alley!"

Without further encouragement, Morales and T burst through the side door, brandishing their bats over their heads and sprinting into the alley. Within seconds, it was over. Glenn and tank-man were safely inside – or as safe as could be, all things considered – and the two seasoned warriors were panting just inside the closed door.

Andrea, green eyes blazing, immediately swung the new guy against the counter, the barrel of her gun placed firmly between his eyes. Sam resisted the urge to laugh a little, knowing stress might have been making her a little bit hysterical. The man was in a sheriff's uniform, his little brass badge on his chest gleaming as if it had been polished not too long ago. He had shaved recently and he was irritatingly clean. Sam missed showers – and not just a little bit. The RV and the quarry didn't even compare to having a steaming hot water rush over her skin. She shivered with the thought before bringing herself back to reality.

"We ouhtta kill you," the blonde threatened. Sam rolled her eyes and found another pair of socks.

"Just chill out, Andrea." Morales's frustration was evident in his voice. They were all in the same shithole, but the lawyer was the only one who seemed to be cracking under pressure. Sam reminded herself not to take her on any more runs should they make it back to camp alive.

Jacqui hovered behind her anxiously. "C'mon. Ease up."

"Ease up? You've gotta be kidding me. We're dead because of this stupid asshole."

"Andrea! I said back the hell off." Morales continued to shrug off the Kevlar and for a tense moment everyone held their breath. "Or," he shrugged. "Pull the trigger."

That seemed to do the trick, and the woman took the gun away, turning with a frustrated sigh.

Sam couldn't resist piping in, though she knew it wasn't helpful. "Welcome to the group," she grinned, knowing it the smile didn't reach her eyes. The new guy didn't answer – just looked at her and continued to breathe heavily. Andrea started to tear up.

"We're dead. All of us. Because of you."

"I don't understand." The sheriff looked around at the group for the first time, taking in the frightened and panicked faces of the people around him.

Morales quickly took charge of informing him of the situation, grabbing his arm and steering him towards the double doors at the front of the store. "Look. We came into the city to scavenge for supplies. You know what the key to scavenging is?" He took the opportunity to emphasize the question with a quick shove to the shoulder. "Surviving. You know what the key to surviving is? _Sneaking_ in and out. _Tip toeing!_ Not shooting up the streets like it's a corral."

"Every geek for miles around heard you popping off rounds."

The look on the man's face as they came around the corner was priceless – it was like he'd never seen a horde before. He looked in terror at the dead, decaying faces of the corpses behind the glass and froze for a moment, a cold sweat breaking across his forehead. Who the hell was this guy that he was just now catching up on the end of the world?

"You just rang the dinner bell."

"Get the picture now?"

Sam grabbed a couple hats off a stand as a large crack formed in the glass, causing the rest of the group to back away in fear. "Seriously?" she muttered. The geeks still had another whole door to get through after they managed to conquer that first one. The time gained by retreating those few feet weren't going to really make much of a difference if push came to shove.

"What the hell were you doing out there, anyway?"

"Trying to find the helicopter."

The man was so serious that Sam couldn't help but break into a fit of giggles, not caring that the rest of the group turned to stare at her. "You're really serious."

"Helicopter?" T-Dog asked, equally as incredulous. "Man, that's crap. There ain't no damn helicopter."

Jacqui took a deep breath, trying to reason it out. "You were chasing a hallucination," she explained calmly. "You were imagining things. It happens – "

"I saw it," he broke in, firmly. Though she continued to laugh a little, there was something in the man's eyes Sam thought was entirely sober – and lucid. It was, indeed, completely possible he had lost his mind – he had, after all, somehow missed the apocalypse – but he seemed more or less in possession of his mental faculties at the moment, as far as she could tell.

The growls and moans on the other side of the glass escalated momentarily as another ten or twelve walkers joined the horde, and panic started to creep into Morales's voice. "Hey T-Dog," he said, turning. "Try that QB. Can you contact the others?"

"Others?" The sheriff perked up a little. "You mean the refugee center."

"Ha! Yeah. As if," Sam scoffed, making eye contact with Jacqui.

"Pft. They've got biscuits waiting in the oven for us."

"And an extra couple pots of coffee on the stove. There is no fucking refugee center."

"Got no signal." T fiddled with the knob on top of the radio, trying to get a clearer signal. "Maybe the roof."

As if on cue, a gunshot rang out in the air. Sam cursed and headed for the stairs, the others following quickly after her.

"Fuck."

"Oh no, was that Dixon?"

When she got to the roof, Merle was looking through the scope down at the gathering crowd. Before she could say anything, he took another shot.

"What the fuck, Merle?" she shouted over the noise.

"Hey Dixon! Are you crazy?" Morales ran up behind her.

Merle just laughed as he turned to greet them, resting the butt of the scout rifle on his hip. "Hey," he smiled. "You oughtta be more polite to a man with a gun, huh? Only common sense." He jumped down off the ledge, staggering a little on his feet. His face was flushed and Sam could see from there that his eyes were dilated and bloodshot. She clenched one fist involuntarily at her side. She had known before that the asshole was a hype, but it hadn't gotten easier with time to handle being around him. Just knowing he had drugs around camp made her fidgety – even after her stint in rehab before she'd gone back to school, she didn't trust herself not to relapse into old habits. Merle was temptation on legs – probably the last person on the planet who had anything left to sell her. But she knew these days that shit was likely to get her killed if she started again.

"Man, you're wastin' bulletswe ain't even got!" T-Dog hopped the pipes in his way and skidded to a stop near the edge, peering over at the crowd. "You're bringin' 'em all down on our ass! Man, just chill!"

"Hey, bad enough I've got this taco bender on my ass all day, now I'm gonna take orders from you?" Merle got close up in the man's face, eyes wild. Sam's stomach churned with the thought of what might happen. Merle was unpredictable when he was sober – like to be close to chaos when he was high. "I don't think so, bro. That'll be the day."

"Give it a rest, guys." They ignored her.

"That'll be the day?" T repeted, mouth dropping open slightly. "You got something you wanna tell me?"

"Hey, T-Dog, man. Just leave it."

"Hell no!"

"It ain't worth it. Now Merle," Morales took a deep breath. Sam couldn't help but admire the man. He seemed to be the only one keeping a level head. "Relax, okay? We've got enough trouble."

The redneck ignored him. "You wanna know the day?" he asked, advancing on T-Dog. "I'll tell you the day, Mr. 'Yo.' It's the day I take orders from a nigger."

There it went.

T-Dog immediately took a swing at him, unfortunately missing. Merle just hit the man in the face with his rifle. Everyone started shouting, and even the new guy tried to break it up, earning a punch to the face that sent him flying over a pipe. Within moments, Merle was straddling his opponent, gun in hand. Instantly, silence dominated the rooftop. Sam glared daggers at the older man, but said nothing. She knew better than to try and reason with a mind on drugs. Andrea started tearing up again as they waited to see what would happen. The tension was nearly palpable on the air – and the heat combined with the moans from downstairs weren't doing anything to help.

After a moment, Merle's mood seemed to shift and he looked around briefly as if his head was clearing a little bit. Sam breathed a sigh of relief when he spit on T's chest, rubbing the spittle into his shirt. The anger left the redneck's face nearly as quickly as it had come, and she knew – for the next few moments at least – he wasn't in danger of shooting anyone impulsively.

"Alright!" he shouted, blue eyes still dominated by the black of his pupils. "We're gonna have ourselves a little powwow, huh? Talk about who's in charge. I vote me." When no one answered immediately, he raised his hand encouragingly. "All in favor?"

With little more motivation, the survivors began raising their hands – no one felt like arguing with a man who still had a loaded gun in his hand. Sam, for her part, flipped him off in reply – though he didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, that's good. That means I'm in charge. Anybody else? Hmmm? Anybody?"

New Guy was the only one in a good position to answer. "Yeah." He slammed the butt of the discarded rifle into the back of Merle's head, much to Sam's relief. Calmly, he stepped on the fallen man's face and slipped a handcuff around his wrist, smoothly slinging the other end of the cuff around a short length of steel rebar.

"Who the hell are you, man?!" Merle grunted, spitting blood out of his mouth as the sheriff hauled him into a sitting position.

"Officer friendly," was the short reply. Sam immediately decided she liked the guy. They might die in the next half hour, but she could be okay with that – she just got to see Merle get his ass beat by a guy about half his size.

"Look here, Merle," he said, deftly removing the clip from the pistol and emptying the chamber, as if clearing a jam. "Things are different now. There are no 'niggers' anymore – no dumb as shit white trash fools neither. Only dark meat and white meat. There's us and the dead. We survive this by pulling together." He reloaded the gun. "Not apart."

"Screw you, man," Merle moaned through the blood in his mouth.

"I can see you make a habit of missing the point."

"Yeah? Well screw you twice."

"You ouhtta be more polite to a man with a gun." He emphasized his point by pressing the barrel of the pistol hard to the man's temple. "Only common sense."

Yup. Sam was definitely a fan. She smirked in satisfaction at the embarrassed flush rising to Merle's cheeks.

"You wouldn't," he tried to convince himself. "You're a cop."

Officer Friendly looked the man dead in the eyes. "All I am anymore is a man looking for his wife and his son. Anybody who gets in the way of that's gonna lose. I'll give you a moment to think about that."

Without further hesitation, he started searching Merle's pockets, hopefully having seen the unusual state of the redneck's eye. Within a few seconds he produced a small baggie of familiar looking white powder. Sam felt her heart race just at the sight of it.

"Got some on your nose there."

"Whatcha gonna do? Arrest me?"

The sheriff promptly tossed the coke over the edge of the building, and Sam breathed another sigh of relief.

"What're ya doin' man?! That's my stuff!" He started pulling at the cuffs, but the new guy just walked away to stare at the rest of the city. "If I get loose you'd better pray! You hear me, pig? You hear me?"

"Yeah, your voice carries," the man muttered.

"You're not Atlanta PD," Morales observed. Sam huffed a little. "King County" was very clearly embroidered on the man's shoulder – same as Shane. "Where're you from?"

"Up the road a ways."

"Well, Officer Friendly from 'up the road a ways,' welcome to the big city."

"God, it's like Time Square down there," Andrea muttered.

"Except quieter," Sam chuckled. "And a good deal more, well… dead."

"How's that signal?"

T-Dog laughed a little. "Like Dixon's brain – weak."

Merle responded by sullenly flipping him the bird.

"Keep trying."

"Why? There's nothing they can do. Not a damn thing." The blonde had a point.

Morales took the time to explain to the sheriff. "We have people outside the city, is all. There's no refugee center. That's a pipe dream."

"Then it looks like we're on our own. Up to us to find a way out." New guy glanced behind him at the redneck.

"No shit," Sam shrugged. "But it'd be nice to let the others know so they don't come looking for us in a few days if we don't make it back."

"Good luck," Merle scoffed. "These streets in this part of town ain't safe, from what I hear."

"You're hilarious," Sam replied drily. "Wanna shut the fuck up?"

"Fat chance, sweetcheeks. You know you like it."

"Shithead."

"Y'all aren't makin' it outta here," he leered, looking around Sam's leg at Andrea. "Ain't that right sugartits? You gonna get me outta these cuffs and go for a walk? Find someplace we can be alone?"

"You're gross." The lawyer went back to repacking her backpack.

"Gonna die anyways."

"I'd rather."

"Rugmuncher," he sighed, his face falling pitifully. "Figures." He looked up hopefully at Sam.

"Don't look at me. I'm not into that kinky handcuff stuff," she teased. "Or you, but that's beside the point." She turned back to the railing.

"'Streets aren't safe'," Morales scoffed. "Now there's an understatement."

Officer friendly's face lit up like he'd had the bright idea of the century. "What about under the streets? Like in the sewers?"

"Oh man. Hey Glenn, check in the alley. See any manhole covers?"

The Asian immediately sprung into action, but came back from the other side of the building just as quickly. "No. Must be all out on the street where the geeks are."

"Maybe not." Jacqui looked thoughtful. "Old buildings like these – big structures often had drainage tunnels into the sewers in case of flooding. Down in the subbasements."

"How do you know that?"

"It's my job – or was. I worked for the city's zoning office." Within seconds, the group was headed back downstairs, leaving a disgruntled Merle still chained to the roof and T-Dog to babysit him. It took them only minutes to locate the ladder down into the sewers. Sam didn't much like the idea of climbing down into a small, dark, confined space with unspecified numbers of walkers, even after they shone a light down the ladder to make sure there weren't any nasty surprises down at the bottom.

"This is it."

"You sure?"

Glenn sighed in frustration. "I've already scoped this place out the last time I was here. This is the only thing in the building that goes down." He hesitated. "But I've never gone down it. Who'd want to, right?"

"Still don't want to," she muttered. "Not much choice, though. Can't exactly use the front door anymore." She glanced over at her friend. "We've been through worse, right? You game?"

Glenn looked more than disappointed. "Oh… great.."

"We'll be right behind you," Andrea assured him.

"No, you won't," Glenn frowned. "Not you."

"Why not? Think I can't?"

"It's not about that," Sam tried to explain. "Every other time we've gone on runs, everything's been fine. We get in and out no problem – fast and quiet. Too many people complicate things. If we're going down there, we've gotta have room to maneuver. Something happens, we wanna be able to turn around fast and book it outta there. If we get stuck, Jacqui still knows the layout of the city better than anyone. But we're doing this our way. No discussions."

"Morales stays up here by the hole. Something happens, yell down to us. Get us back up here in a hurry. New guy watches the doors – I've seen you shoot, and I'd feel better if you're up here covering our asses. Andrea, you've got the only other gun, so you'd better stay with him. Jacqui, try to come up with something for if this doesn't work." Glenn took a deep breath.

Officer Friendly put his hand on the man's shoulder to help calm him down. "Everyone knows their jobs."

"I'll go down first and take the flashlight," he said. Sam nodded in acknowledgment.

The air got noticeably cooler as they descended, and Sam felt a shiver run up her back. Unarmed, walking down a dark tunnel with a flashlight looking for a way out – it sounded to her like the lead up to a bad death out of a horror movie. At least they weren't going solo, although being paired up with the token minority character wasn't particularly comforting.


	6. Chapter 5 - Tell it to the Frogs

**Review please **** Nice to get feedback so I know how to improve. Thanks.**

**~†~**

The unbearable heat of the afternoon had dissipated slightly with the advent of the setting sun, and Sam leaned casually against the whitewashed wall on the roof, baseball cap pulled low over her eyes to block out the fading light. The concrete was warm beneath her as she tried to get comfortable, reveling in the _lack_ of Merle's voice for a few moments. It had taken him nearly three hours to calm down after T-Dog had dropped the key down the drainpipe, and she had been reevaluating the wisdom of her choice to babysit. Of course, she hadn't had too many options, being unwilling to leave the man – however much of an ass he was – drugged and alone in the infested city. And Merle was too much of a pig to put up with having a black man keep him company in what might end up being his last few hours of life.

"You gonna get me outta these anytime soon, sweetheart?" drawled the man as he pulled pointedly at the cuffs still attaching him to the pipe.

She didn't even glance at him, remaining impassive behind the bill of her cap. It wasn't the first time he'd asked – and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. "Nope. Not 'till you're sober." Trapped on a roof with an addict at the end of the world. Sounded like a good novel.

He was silent for a moment, but, as always, he couldn't keep that up for long. "How long're ya gonna wait?"

"Daybreak, probably. You might want to try and get comfortable."

"Fuckin' bitch. I ain't stayin' like this all night!" he complained too loudly. The walkers in the stairwell strained against the door at the sound of his voice. "What if those bastards get through?"

The walkers had been trying to get at them for the past several hours – almost since she'd heard Glenn drive by below, his car alarm blaring through the streets. She was glad T-Dog had thought to chain the door behind him, although it looked like the door handle would break far sooner than the padlock. She winced as the door creaked, hoping it would hold out for a few more hours. She'd much rather try and navigate the city during the day.

"I've been hoping you'd shut up long enough for them to lose interest and go away. You keep shouting like that all the time and they're gonna break those hinges off trying to get to ya. And I'm not gonna do a damn thing to stop 'em." When she didn't immediately get a response from him, she raised her cap enough to glare at him from across the way. "Got it?"

"Screw you bitch."

"No thanks." She grabbed a half-full bottle of water from her pack and rolled it over to him. "Since you're obviously not tired, you can take first watch. I suggest for your sake you take the job seriously and try to sober up pretty quick."

**~†~**

As always, morning came too quickly for Kaylee. She'd slid into her tent late last night after spending a long day trying to set up nets along the shore of their small lake – something Andrea had suggested before she'd left – to see if they could catch any fish that way. It would be nice if they didn't have to actively reel in all of their food every day, piece by piece, and she wasn't sure how much Daryl would be able to bring back from his hunt. She thought she'd managed to secure the edges of the nets well enough using some larger rocks she'd gathered from around the area, but she'd have to wait and see if she'd followed Andrea's instructions well enough.

Sam's still-empty cot in the corner told her the group wasn't back from the city yet. Dad continued to snore softly from his cot as she tried to force down the lump that had formed in her throat. The younger woman's runs into town had often taken longer than a day, but Kaylee had been more worried this time than others. This time they'd gone deeper into the lion's den – and she couldn't keep herself from imagining what they'd run into.

Changing into sturdier clothes for the day and slipping into her boots, she told herself that everything was fine. They'd probably just taken a little extra time to explore – or maybe they'd hit the hardware store on the way in to get an extra set of tools. Nothing to worry about, right?

Keeping as quiet as she could to avoid waking the sleeping mechanic, she strapped her tool belt around her waist. The now-familiar weight of the wrench was comforting, somehow, though she knew it wouldn't bring the others back any faster.

There was a slight chill on the morning air, making her shiver a bit as she stepped out into the pale light of sunrise. The camp was still asleep, but she preferred it that way. She was too anxious to make much conversation. She headed for the RV before she remembered Daryl was off hunting. Hopefully he'd be back this afternoon, but she'd admit that she missed him. Having him and Sam both gone, Kaylee almost didn't know what to do with herself. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and forcing the tension from her neck and shoulders. They were fine. They were_ both _fine.

The sounds of people waking up reached her and she turned to head for the quarry, not wanting to have to talk to anyone at the moment. Besides, she wanted to check the nets to see if they'd caught anything during the night.

When she made it down to the water, she got to work. Before long, Carol brought the laundry down. Kaylee smiled and waved, but was on the other side of the lake by then, checking yet another empty net and debating on whether or not it was worth the swim to examine the nets she'd set against the rock face. With a sigh, she stripped down to her underwear and waded into the water, only to be disappointed yet again. Maybe Andrea and Amy would have better luck with this.

Shane was filling the water tank when she finally swam back to shore.

"Any luck?" To his credit, the man didn't give her a second glance as she shook herself off and retrieved her clothes from a nearby branch. He wasn't too much older than her, as far as she could tell – maybe 30 or so to her 25 – but Kaylee was pretty sure he still saw her as a kid, anyway.

She shook her head, but gave him a grin. "I guess I'm not so great at fishing. If there's no WD40 or duct tape involved, I suppose I'm not much use."

He laughed a little, though he seemed a little ill at ease. "Didn't grow up around here, then, did ya? Fishing comes about second nature to us country folk."

"Ha! Yeah, right. I wanna see Merle sit down long enough to catch anything that he can't get rid of with meds."

"Yeah, well…" he trailed off as he fixed the cap back on the spout. "You goin' back up? Can give ya a lift."

"Maybe in a bit. Mind sending Amy down? She might know better than me how to set these nets right."

"I'll see what she's up to. Be careful down here, hear?"

She smiled and nodded as she took a seat by the water's edge to wait. She supposed watching the waves lap gently against the rocks might be peaceful, although it didn't quite reach that same level of reverie she got out of fixing things most of the time. Still, the sunlight reflecting off the surface of the lake was fairly stunning, even as she shivered a little in the shade of the quarry. Mom would have liked it here.

Before she could get lost in her memories, a shrill scream pierced the air bringing Kaylee to her feet faster than she could think. That was Sophia and the kids. Her boots dug into the gravel on the path as she raced back up to camp, her wrench slamming into her thigh with every stride. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she came across the scene in that little clearing – the group gathered around the headless corpse of a walker and a gutted deer with familiar looking crossbow bolts sticking out of its hide. Daryl emerged from the woods before she managed to join them, swearing and kicking the offending dead guy to his heart's content. She took in the faces in the small gathering and breathed a sigh of relief – Morales was back, and T-Dog. That meant they'd made it back safe.

She doubled over to catch her breath, smiling a little as Daryl complained about the state of the deer. Angry or not, she was glad he was back.

"Been tracking this deer for miles. Get it back to camp, cook us up some venison." He pulled the bolts from the deer one by one, a string heavy with dead squirrels swinging with the movement. "What'd you think – cut around this chewed up part right here?" He looked up hopefully at Shane, who shook his head grimly.

"Man, you know we can't risk that."

"Damn shame…"

"Can use the hide, though, right?" Kaylee straightened up again, breathing easier now. "Cut around the bite and clean it up well enough, shouldn't be any danger. Be a shame to lose the whole deer."

"Damn right," Daryl smiled, before proudly showing off his string of small, fluffy tailed animals. "Got some squirrel, though. 'Bout a dozen or so. Gonna have to do for meat."

Kaylee looked over to Dad, who was observing her anxiously from under his cap. "Kids alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, no one was hurt."

Before anyone could say anything more, the walker's head opened its mouth to gape at them from the ground. It was always difficult not to see them as people anymore – until, that is, something like _that_ happened. A gnashing, disembodied head was difficult to mistake for a human being.

Amy gagged behind a nearby bush, and Kaylee didn't blame her. Damn disgusting.

"What the hell, people?" Daryl brought his crossbow up to his shoulder and promptly loosed the bolt into the creature's eye socket. "Gotta be the brain," he said matter-of-factly. "Don't y'all know nothin'?"

The whole group turned in silence to watch Daryl leave, and Kaylee got the feeling something was going on. She took in the new face for the first time. "Who're you?"

"Rick Grimes," came the distracted reply.

"Grimes?" she asked, knowing the name was familiar. "As in Lori and Carl Grimes."

"Yeah."

"Well, welcome to the group." She flashed him a smile as she walked past him into the main camp, noticing he looked a little green. "If you're gonna hurl, I suggest picking a different bush. I think Amy's got that one over there pretty well covered." The rest of the group slowly turned to follow her, catching up as Daryl strode proudly towards the tent he shared with his brother.

"Merle!" he called. "Getchour ugly ass out here. Got us some squirrels. Stew 'em up." He rested his crossbow against one of the makeshift chairs around the campfire. Kaylee wasn't sure whether or not to be saddened that the prospect of stewed squirrel actually sounded fairly appetizing.

"Hey Daryl." Shane approached quickly from behind as Daryl passed the RV. "Why don't ya hold up for a second. Gotta talk to ya."

"'Bout wha'?"

Shane looked increasingly uncomfortable. "'Bout Merle. Kaylee, you might wanna hear this too."

"Okay," she waited, a sneaking suspicion beginning to settle in her stomach. "What's up?" She looked around a bit, feeling dread creeping up on her as she realized Sam was nowhere to be found. "Where's Sam."

"There was a problem in Atlanta."

Silence permeated the camp as she and Daryl stood confusedly, the rest of the survivors forming a tense circle around them. The hunter beside her shifted nervously on his feet. "They're dead?"

Nausea roiled through her stomach as she waited for Shane's reply. _Dead._ The faces of her mom and sister briefly rolled past her eyes before she shook her head to clear it.

"Not sure."

"He either is or he ain't." Daryl started pacing.

"What do you mean you're not sure?" Kaylee asked quietly, her gaze boring into Shane. How could he not know? What the hell happened?

"There's no easy way to say this," Rick strode up quickly, as if he'd just decided something. Kaylee watched him carefully, trying to suppress the veritable volcano of frustration she felt building. How the _fuck _could he not know? "So I'm just gonna say it."

"Who're you?"

"Rick Grimes."

"'_Rick Grimes,'" _Daryl scoffed, still pacing. "You got somethin' you wanna tell me?" Sweat dripped down his face as his blue eyes burned dangerously.

"You're brother was a danger to us all… so I handcuffed him to a roof hooked in to a piece of metal. He's still there."

"I'm sorry, you did what?" She crossed her arms over her chest and waited expectantly.

"Lemme process this," he began pacing in earnest, and Kaylee could see his anger building. Though she felt much the same way, she stayed rooted to the spot, a cold, calm fury slowly taking hold. "You handcuffed my _brother _to a _roof. _ And then you _LEFT HIM THERE?"_

"Yeah."

Nope. Not good enough.

Daryl threw his squirrels at Rick and lunged for him. Kaylee stood and watched, cold blue eyes observing quietly even as the redneck drew his hunting knife and attacked again, only to be caught in Shane's choke hold.

"You'd best let me go!"

"Nah, I think it's better if I don't."

Daryl continued to struggle against the cop as they sank to the ground. His face grew increasingly red as he breathed heavily through his nose. "Choke holdin's illegal."

"Yeah, file a complaint." Rick drew a little closer as Shane continued to restrain the man. "C'mon now, I can keep this up all day."

"I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. Think we can manage that?"

'_Calm discussion.' Yeah, sure._

Without further delay, Shane stepped away. "What I did was not on a whim. Your brother does not work and play well with others."

_True._

"It's not Rick's fault." T-Dog slowly approached, seeing that Daryl was calming down a bit. "I had the key – I dropped it."

"What, you couldn't pick it up?"

"I dropped it in a drain…"

Daryl grunted as he pushed himself up from the ground, still struggling to keep himself under control. "If that's supposed to make me feel better, it don't."

"Well, maybe this will. I chained the door to the roof so the geeks couldn't get at them. With a padlock."

"You hearin' this?" Daryl asked, turning to Kaylee for support. She glared at T-Dog and Rick in turn, hands cold despite the growing heat.

"I'm going to ask this once – and I want a short, simple, concise answer without excuses or bullshit. What do you mean, 'them'?"

T took a deep breath before answering. "Sam wouldn't leave him there alone. She's there on the roof with him – thought she might be able to help, if it came down to it."

"T' hell with all y'all," Daryl's voice broke a little. "Jus' tell me where they are. 'll go get 'em." He glanced to the engineer briefly. "Ya comin'?"

"He'll show you." Lori's calm voice drifted over from beside the RV. "Isn' that right?"

Rick took a moment before he nodded. "I'm goin' back." Without another word, he strode back towards his tent, Shane following angrily behind him.

Dad put a tentative hand on Kaylee's shoulder. "You alright?"

She still couldn't bring herself to move from the spot. She was going back into the city. Part of her was proud of Sam for staying – for thinking about someone else. The rest of her was cursing her friend for putting herself into danger. All she could respond with was a nod, watching as Daryl cleaned his arrows and clipped them to his crossbow.

"You don't have to go. Rick'll bring her back safe. He's a good man – honorable."

She looked sadly into her Dad's hazel eyes, giving him a small smile because she knew he was trying to help. "I can't trust this to someone else. "

Shane picked that moment to storm back to the group. "Why would you risk your life for a douche bag like Merle Dixon?"

"Hey, you'd better choose your words more carefully," Daryl glared.

"No, I did. Douche bag's what I meant. And Sam Nichols? Girl doesn' know the first thing on how to be useful. Merle Dixon… Man wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dyin' of thirst."

"You hearin' this shit?" Daryl looked incredulously over at her, fury still marked plainly on his face.

"What he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me. _I _can't let a man die of thirst. _Me._ Thirst and exposure. We left 'em like animals caught in a trap – that's no way for anything to die, let alone a human being. Useful or not – _liked_ or not – I'm goin' back to get 'em."

"So you, Daryl, and Kaylee," Lori asked from beside the fire. "That's your big plan?"

Rick turned to look pointedly at Glenn, who had been standing off to the side attempting to stay uninvolved. Kaylee really wasn't interested in who else was going. She turned to hug Dad goodbye before going to get her backpack out of her tent. When she got back to the discussion, they were talking something about a bag of guns left somewhere in the city. She didn't care. The only friend she had left in the world was sitting on a rooftop waiting for a rescue, surrounded by walkers and trapped with a racist, sexist, drug addict. They were wasting time talking.

She went to get a couple bottles of water from the RV, only to be stopped on the way out by Dad, looking at her with concern. "You sure about this?"

She softened a little, but refused to succumb to the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "Lemme do what I have to do."

"I don't wanna lose you. You're all I've got left, Kay."

She hugged him tight, tearing up a little. "I love you, Dad. I'll be back. Promise." He gave her a small smile as she moved past him to hop up in the back of the truck to wait with Daryl while the others said their goodbyes.

The redneck looked at her thoughtfully for a few moments – she could almost feel the gears churning in his head. "They're gonna be just fine," he told her firmly, and she looked up to meet his serious blue eyes. "Ya don't need ta worry."

She chuckled a little, smiling at him. "She's been stuck on a roof with your brother for a whole night – she's gonna have some pretty extreme emotional scarring, if nothing else."

His eyes sparkled slightly. "Yeah, well Sam's no peach either. 's probably reamed Merle a new one by now – prolly gonna need stitches to sew up what's left of his pride."

"Guess we'd better hurry then, 'fore they kill each other." She grinned as he got up and honked the horn.

"C'mon! Let's go!"

They walked quickly over to the van. T-Dog had Dale's bolt cutters slung over his shoulder.

_Hope we'll still need those._


	7. Chapter 6 - Don't Panic

**Yay quick update. Thanks to Daniel in the den and lovelivebelieve for the reviews **** Much appreciated. **

**~†~**

T-Dog cut the fence by the train tracks and they slipped easily into the city, breaking into a job almost as soon as they were in. It was so quiet, Kaylee could almost forget this had been a major metropolitan area only a few weeks ago. The streets were completely deserted – not a walker in sight and only the occasional wrecked car paid tribute to what had happened here. She'd almost expected to see scorch marks on the buildings, but she supposed the napalm-induced fires hadn't made it to the outskirts of the city.

"Merle first? Or guns?" Rick turned to ask Glenn, sweat already beginning to drip from his forehead.

Daryl scowled angrily. "Merle and Sam. We even having this discussion?"

"Yeah, we are." The cop turned back to Glenn. "You know the city best. Your call."

He didn't even take the time to think about it – for which Kaylee was thankful. Although having the extra firepower might make the department store – and the rest of the city for that matter – a little more approachable, she knew the extra time might make all the difference in their little rescue operations. "The guns mean doubling back. Store first."

Everything was still quiet when they reached the ruined storefront, and the lone walker on the ground floor was quickly dispatched by Daryl.

"Damn," he said, raising his crossbow. "You are one ugly skank."

She smiled a little, glad the man's mood had continued to improve as they'd gone deeper into the city. _Just a little further._ The rest of the building was as quiet as the streets, but they were still careful as they mounted the stairs to the roof. As she caught sight of the state of the door, her heart sank rapidly.

The chain and lock were still perfectly intact, but the door itself was less comforting. The handle hung loosely from one bolt, and the corner near the bottom was bent up and splattered heavily with blood. No one said a word as T hurriedly cut through the padlock, letting Daryl kick the door the rest of the way open. The hinges screeched loudly as he raised his crossbow, calling for his brother and Sam.

Kaylee started cursing as she realized the roof was empty, save for one walker lying face down on the ground. It looked like the body had once belonged to a young teenage girl – maybe 13 at the oldest. She would have been just small enough to slip through the gap in the door. She turned the corpse over carefully, breathing a little easier when she saw the long screwdriver stuck deep through the geek's eye socket. Steeling herself, she repurposed the Phillips head to prying open its mouth, relieved to find it free of flesh.

"They weren't bit," she announced quietly, looking up to see Daryl's anxious gaze watching her carefully.

"Looks like they broke the cuffs," Rick called over. He held up the severed half of the gleaming silver object and a pair of pliers. Kaylee smirked, thinking Sam hadn't always blown her off as much as she'd thought.

"And went where?"

"Only place they could go." Daryl rounded the corner and pointed to another door swinging open. "Back down to the street."

"She took my tool bag with her." She ran a hand down the edge of the doorframe, tracing the telltale niches in the surface. "Had a small crowbar in there. My guess is that's how they got the door open."

"Merle!" Daryl shouted down the stairwell.

"We don't know what else is down there," Rick scowled. "Could be a whole group of them."

"Fuck that. Could be my brother, just as well. Ain't got time to go door to door lookin'."

"Maybe we should go back for the guns," T nervously suggested, holding the bolt cutters over his shoulder. Kaylee suppressed a huff of impatience, reminding herself that the man was unarmed and had to be uncomfortable with the idea of walking around for too long.

Daryl was not so patient. "What, y'all wanna turn tail and bolt 'cause they ain' right where ya left 'em? Well, go on if ya wanna. I'm goin' on." He looked expectantly at Kaylee. "Ya comin'?"

She nodded firmly, only to be interrupted by Rick. "We're not splitting up. If we're gonna do this, let's be smart about it. Me and Daryl in front. Kaylee, you're in the middle. Glenn and T-Dog, y'all watch the rear. Got it?"

She wondered briefly whey she got the bitch spot before remembering she was the only girl in the group of macho men. She glanced briefly over at Glenn fidgeting nervously with the straps on his backpack and smirked a little to herself. Well, _mostly_ macho men.

They carefully advanced through the building, weapons drawn and ready. There were only a few geeks wandering around through the hallways, though they came across more as they went room to room. Daryl took most of them out quietly with his crossbow; Kaylee managed to get a couple where there were two or three in one space, always under the watchful presence of Rick and his revolver, should any of them get too far away from her. As they got further, she started to wonder how Sam and Merle had gotten through the hallways so quietly. Though Daryl periodically pointed out a shoeprint in the carpet or some other trace evidence, Kaylee wasn't entirely convinced they had come this way at all. Until, that is, they came across three walkers and a familiar-looking bloody wrench on the floor of the lobby.

"Don't ever let me doubt your tracking ability again," she said quietly to the redneck as she slipped the wrench into her backpack.

He smirked at her in reply even as he moved to take a closer look at the bodies. "Toughest son of a bitch I ever met – my brother. Give 'im a hammer, he'll crap out nails."

"Obviously he hasn't found my hammer yet. Even I could follow a trail like that."

A brief grin flashed across his face. "Looks like Merle got them two with the wrench. That one there was a crowbar."

Rick moved past them into the next room, revolver pointed carefully down and away at the floor. "They've been almost a day out in that sun with no water. And we don't know for sure they aren't wounded. I don't care how touch they are – we'd do best to find 'em soon."

They followed a bloody footprint into the kitchen and fanned out to sweep the area. Kaylee was sure Sam had taken water with her on the run, bat that didn't exactly mean it had lasted very long. The computer programmer wasn't exactly particularly good about conserving resources – although, up until recently, she hadn't really had to think about that much.

"Merle!" Daryl called. "Y'all down here?"

"We're not alone," Rick reminded him, shoulders tense.

"Pft. Might be they're hurt – you said it yourself."

Kayee grimaced at the sight of the broken window in the corner. "I think it's pretty safe to say they're not in the building anymore."

Glenn hurried up behind her. "They left? Why the hell would they do that?"

"Why not?" The redneck came over to inspect the window, leaning out over the fire escape below. "They're out here alone, 's far as they know. Gotta take care of themselves. Survive."

"You call that survivin'?" T-Dog asked incredulously. "Jus' wanderin' 'round the streets, maybe passing out? What're their odds out there? Got hundreds of those geeks roamin' around in clumps. No guns – no weapons at all 'cept that box of tools."

"No worse than bein' handcuffed to a roof and left to rot by you sorry pricks." Glenn and T both looked appropriately ashamed of themselves at that. Kaylee couldn't help but feel some small swell of pride for the fact that Sam had stayed behind. Daryl turned to Rick. "Hell, you couldn't kill 'im. Not so worried 'bout some dumb _dead_ bastards."

"What about a thousand dumb dead bastards? Different story?"

"Why don't you take a tally? You do what you want. I'm gonna go get 'im."

"Daryl, wait." Rick held him back as he attempted to storm away.

"Get your hands off me! You can't stop me."

"I don't blame you." The cop spoke slowly, trying to calm him down. "He's family. I get that. I went through hell to find mine. I know exactly how y'all feel. They can't have gotten too far. We can help you check a few blocks around – but _only_ if we keep a level head."

Daryl took a deep breath and glanced over at Kaylee, some of the rage fading from his eyes. "I can do that."

She gave him a small smile. "Their odds are a lot better with all of us out there lookin' for them." She wasn't happy with the idea of her friend wandering around on the streets, either. Anything could happen. But she wasn't about to pass up Rick's offer to help.

"Only if we get those guns first." T-Dog shook his head slowly. "I'm not strolling the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions, okay?"

"Fair enough," Daryl conceded. "Where'd you say you left 'em?"

"They're about 5 blocks away, on Peachtree Northwest.." Glenn adjusted his hat anxiously. "Down by the tank."

"Alrighty, then." Kaylee slid her wrench back into her toolbelt. "Let's go get them."

**~†~**

Shane followed Dale up to the ridge overlooking the camp. The old man sounded seriously concerned about Jim being up there – especially with the afternoon sun beating down on them. The scene was so strange to him that he had to take a moment to watch before he could say anything. The mechanic was digging holes in earnest – maybe a dozen or so of them littered the ground, each about three feet deep and nearly six feet long – beet red in the face and sweating buckets.

It looked like he was digging graves.

"Hey Jim?" The mechanic didn't respond in the slightest, continuing at his work as if no one was there. "Why don't you hold up? Just give me a second here, please?"

"What do you want?" He looked around at the gathered crowd suspiciously as he leaned against the shovel.

"We're just a little concerned, that's all."

"Dale says you've been out here for hours."

"So?"

"So, why are you digging, man?" He chuckled a little. "You goin' to China, Jim?"

"What does it matter? I'm not hurting anyone."

"Yeah, except maybe yourself," Dale said, his voice heavy with worry. "It's a hundred degrees out here today. You can't keep this up."

"Sure I can," he smiled as he dug the shovel back into the dirt. "Watch me."

Not for the first time that day, Shane cursed Rick for leaving. Kaylee would be better to handle this and she was gone for what? A suicidal wild goose chase of a rescue mission for people who were most likely dead anyway.

Lori approached quietly from the back of the group. "Jim, they're not going to say it, so I will. You're scaring people. You're scaring my son – and Carol's daughter."

"They've got nothin' to be scared of. I mean, what the hell, people. I'm out here by myself. Why don't you all just go and leave me the hell alone?"

"And tell Kaylee what when she comes back? That her father passed out from a heat stroke 'cause he was out digging for God knows what all day long? We just think that maybe you need to take a break, okay? Why don't you go on and get yourself some shade – some food maybe? And I'll tell you what – maybe in a little bit I'll come out here and help you myself. Just tell me what it's about. Just… why don't you just go ahead and give me that shovel?"

"Or what?"

"There is no 'or what.' I'm asking you. I'm coming to you and I'm asking you, please. I don't wanna have to take it from you."

"And if I don't, then what? Then you're gonna beat my face in like Ed Peletier, aren't you? Y'all seen his face, huh? Or what's left of it. See, now that's what happens when someone crosses you."

"That was different, Jim." So very different. He'd spent years trying to put assholes like Ed away for domestic violence, only to have them get away because their families refused to testify. And here were the Peletiers sitting right there in front of him – and he wasn't about to just let it go. Especially when Ed had gone off on the other women in the group. Sure he might have gone a little overboard on it. Lori's rejection had been fresh in his mind, and, if he were honest, he didn't know what to do with himself on that front. But the incident at the quarry had been so much more than just stress relief. It had been years building – and right then Ed could have been every sonofabitch that had gotten away.

"You weren't there," Amy explained. "Ed was out of control. He was hurting his wife."

"That is _their_ marriage, not his! He is not judge and jury. Who voted you King Boss, huh?"

"Jim, I'm not here to argue with you, alright?" Shane fought to keep his calm. It wasn't going to help if he lost his temper again. "Just give me the shovel, okay? We can talk about this a little later once you've had some rest."

He stepped up to take the shovel and had to jump away as the mechanic suddenly took a swing at him. As soon as it got violent, that was it. He knew Jim wasn't the type to lose his head so easily – thought the sun and the heat could make a man do strange things sometimes. It was nothing personal, but he was gonna end it right then. He tackled the man to the ground, tossing the shovel away as he pinned him into the dirt.

"You got no right! You hear me? No, no, no." The man was shouting at the top of his lungs. Shane knew he had to restrain him before he hurt himself and pulled out the handcuffs in his back pocket.

"Just calm down, Jim. No one is gonna hurt you. You hear me? Shh. Jim. Nobody is gonna hurt you, okay?"

"That's a lie. That's the biggest lie there is." The mechanic panted heavily beneath Shane's knee, dirt flying away from his face with every breath. "I told that to my wife and my daughter. I said it a hundred times and it didn't matter. They came outta nowhere. There were dozens of 'em swarming that lobby. Just pulled 'em right outta my hands." He stopped for a moment, and Shane heard Lori's horrified gasp behind him. Kaylee never talked about it – and no one had ever asked. They all had things they needed to forget, and no one needed to be reminded of who they'd lost. All focusing on it would do was take you far down a hole you couldn't dig your way out of. "You know," he continued. "The only reason I got away was 'cause the dead were too busy eating my family. And I couldn't even do anything to protect the only person I've got left. I was too much of a coward to go with her."

No one knew what to say. All they could do was watch as Jim sobbed into the dirt, stunned to silence.

**~†~**

Kaylee followed Daryl and Glenn down the ladder, trying not to think of what was waiting for her at the bottom and just around the corner. She'd made the horrendous mistake of glancing over into the street while she was on the roof, watching as maybe a hundred walkers milled around on the ground. She knew there was a chain link fence at each end of the alleyway they were dropping into, but somehow that didn't seem like it was enough. As they dropped down and hurried towards the street, Daryl taking a moment to load his crossbow behind a dumpster, she tried to force herself to relax a little. She was worried for Glenn, though she knew he'd done things like this several times before. If anyone knew how to evade the geeks effectively, it was him.

"You've got some balls for a chinaman," Daryl muttered with a sidelong glance at Glenn. The Asian rolled his eyes at the racist compliment.

"I'm Korean."

"Whatever."

"Good luck, Glenn."

"Thanks," he replied drily before slipping past the fence without another word. Kaylee and Daryl huddled quietly between the two dumpsters, listening carefully for any sign that Glenn was in trouble. Barely a minute had passed before they heard footsteps coming down the alleyway behind them.

Daryl looked over at her, blue eyes deathly serious as he readjusted the bolt loaded into his crossbow. "Stay put," he mouthed. She nodded, pulling the pipe wrench from her belt and shifting slightly to give him a little more room.

He stood abruptly, shouldering his bow and taking stock of whatever it was sneaking up on them. He didn't fire immediately, so Kaylee assumed it wasn't a walker – though she wondered what the odds were of finding some other survivor out here. Her heart leapt momentarily, hoping it might be Sam and Merle, before Daryl addressed the newcomer.

"Whoa! Don't shoot me!" shouted an unfamiliar voice. "What do you want?"

One of the walkers behind the fence turned to look at them, and Kaylee resisted the urge to curse loudly, tightening her grip on her weapon.

"Lookin' for my brother and a friend. Been out here a while. You seen 'em?" Daryl didn't budge to lower his bow. He kept it firmly pressed into his shoulder, and Kaylee hoped he knew what he was doing. She just waited, half her attention devoted to the alleyway, the other half to where Glenn was out on the street.

The guy in the alley shouted something in Spanish, and Daryl yelled at him, much good as it was doing him. "Shut up! You're gonna bring them geeks down on us. Answer me." He waited for a moment. She could here Glenn's footsteps getting closer as he ran back. "Answer me!"

The boy in the alley shouted again, and she peered around the corner to glance at him. He was skinny and Hispanic, his jeans sagging down past his hips. The dirty wife beater he wore revealed several tattoos and a silver chain hanging from his neck. He shouted again twice before Daryl lost his patience and hit him across the face with the butt of his crossbow.

"Shut up," he ordered, covering the kid's mouth with his hand. Within seconds, two men came racing into the alley from the street, and Kaylee pulled back further between the dumpsters to avoid being seen until they'd passed by her. Daryl turned to face them too late, but the engineer was quick enough to swing her wrench into the back of the second man's knee. The bone crunched under the impact, even as the first man's bat collided with Daryl's shoulder, knocking him to the ground. The man she'd just crippled flailed to get up from the ground, knocking Kaylee's feet out from underneath her just as Glenn came skidding to a halt, safe in the alley.

"There's the bag!" yelled the second guy, prompting the man attacking Daryl to turn his attention to the Asian. "Take it! Take it!" An elbow collided with the side of Kaylee's face as she tried to get up, and the man with the broken knee pushed himself up from the ground in time to avoid her foot colliding with his ribs. Baseball bat hit Glenn in the back and grabbed the bag, helping his friend to his feet before a crossbow bolt whizzed through the air. The guy with the bat started screaming as the bolt embedded itself in his right ass cheek, but before Daryl could load another arrow, they'd gotten Glenn between them, holding him hostage as a car pulled up at the end of the alley. Glenn shouted for help as they dragged him away, and Kaylee staggered to her feet too late.

"Come back here!" Daryl chased after them, only to pull the gate closed before the geeks could get at them. "You sumbitches!"

The kid had gotten to his feet, moving up quickly behind her friend. She still felt a little stunned from the blow she'd taken, but managed to kick him in the shin hard enough for him to lose his footing. The redneck screamed at him in frustration, swinging around to shove him hard against the wall as Rick and T-Dog came sprinting up from the other end of the alley.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop it." Rick got between Daryl and the kid.

"I'm gonna kick your nuts up into your throat!" he threatened, straining against Rick to get at the punk.

"Let me go!"

T-Dog shoved the kid against the wall. "Chill out!"

"They took Glenn," Daryl explained, still too loud. He started pacing behind Rick. Kaylee kept a watchful eye on the growing horde of geeks behind the chain link as she rubbed the stinging bruise forming on her cheekbone. "That little bastard and his little homie friends." He pushed past the cop to point threateningly. "I'm gonna stomp your ass!"

"We've gotta get outta here," Kaylee shouted, noticing the hinges on the fence start to strain. "We're cut off."

Rick helped her to her feet. "Get to the Lab. Go!" They started running as the cop grabbed the bag and his hat.

"C'mon." The redneck hurried her and Rick forward. "Damn, let's go." Without further encouragement, they sprinted back down away from the fence.


	8. Chapter 7 - Vatos

**Review please. I really appreciate feedback.**

**Thanks to daniel in the den for the review. **

**~†~**

"I ain't tellin' you nothing." The kid lounged casually in a chair as the rescue team gathered around him, anxious about their missing friend. He nursed his busted lip sullenly, brown eyes angry and defiant.

"Man, what the hell happened back there?" T asked from his seat on the windowsill. The sweltering Georgia sun had turned the room into an oven, and the cracked windows offered only a slight reprieve. Kaylee appreciated the breeze, but wasn't too fond of the idea of a walker passing by and grabbing her through the window while her back was turned, so she kept herself away from the glass.

Daryl paced, and the engineer rubbed the bruise beneath her eye, letting him explain instead of piping up. "I told you. This little turd and his douche bag friends came outta nowhere and jumped us."

"Man, you're the ones who jumped me, _puto_ – screamin' 'bout tryin' to find his brother like it's my damn fault."

"They took Glenn," the redneck answered Rick's glare, continuing to pace angrily. His constant movement was slowly giving her a headache. She wished he'd just stand still for a little while. "Coulda taken Merle and Sam, too."

"'Merle'? What kind of a hick name is that? Wouldn't name my dog 'Merle.'"

Rick restrained Daryl as he lunged for the kid. "Daryl. Daryl! Back off."

"This little shithead is askin' for it. Fuckin' punk."

"Just stop." Rick's blue eyes bored into the man. "'Level head,'" he reminded him.

Frustrated, Daryl kicked a nearby table, pointing angrily at the kid before stomping away. "You're lucky you ain' alone with me. 'd pull your teeth out one by one, ya hear me?"

"Daryl!"

The redneck didn't need to be told again, and went to go sit on a tabletop near the engineer. The kid glanced at him, fear in his eyes, before Rick tried to reason with him. She thought Daryl's method of getting information was a little crude, but she'd admit their hostage had become much more interested in talking to the cop after the improvised "good cop, scary hick" routine.

"Look," Rick said patiently. "The men who took our friend – all we wanna do is talk to them. See if we can work something out."

"You'll keep that _puto_ away from me?" When Rick nodded, he sighed in resignation. "They're at the edge of the city. I'll take you there.

Within minutes, they were out on the streets again, only this time without Glenn's expertise to help them navigate. Weapons drawn and eyes alert, they had little choice but to follow the kid on a winding trip through buildings, back streets, and the occasional secluded courtyard, avoiding or killing walkers as they went. He kept throwing nervous glances back towards Daryl, who smirked darkly at him whenever given the chance, crossbow loaded as he walked carefully beside Kaylee.

She nudged him playfully in the arm. "I think you can probably cut it out now," she said softly so only he could hear, earning an amused half-smile. "He's gonna piss his pants if you keep it up."

"Kinda the point. Don't want him tryin' to get away, right?" He glanced at her cheek. "Gonna have one hell of a shiner there."

She shrugged. "Not my first – hopefully not my last." Not that she liked getting bruises – but these days they were just one more thing to remind you that you were alive. He seemed to understand the idea well enough.

"Hurt?" She nodded briefly in reply, but shrugged it off without complaining. There were worse things.

"I'm sure you've got a couple nice spots of your won, though. I'm glad I got the elbow instead of that bat."

He looked away uncomfortably. "Ain' nothin'."

"Sure got him back, though," she smirked. He grinned at that.

They stopped at a brick wall surrounding a small courtyard. Kudzu was growing on the brick and on the wrought iron bars that served as a gate, causing the grout to crumble away just enough for them to peer through. Rick almost immediately had a plan, although Kaylee suspected he'd been mulling over possible strategies most of the walk over. He slung the bag of guns to the ground in front of him, unzipping it deftly.

"Got two rifles here – both with scopes. T-Dog – you and Kaylee take 'em. Climb up on the wall over there and keep a close watch. One of you on each side – you're our snipers. Make sure you can see us – and whoever we're talking to – at all times if you can." The engineer nodded as she accepted the weapon, the weight settling into her hands easily.

"You know how to use that thing?" Daryl asked, almost skeptically as Rick handed her a five round clip and some extra bullets. She knew the cop was wondering the same thing.

She pushed the clip into the magwell and promptly slid the bolt back, chambering a round and making sure the safety was still on for her climb. She wasn't going to pretend she was a marksman, but her uncle had made sure she knew her way around guns well enough not to hurt herself. "Pretty sure I can figure it out."

Rick went back to planning, and she tried to ignore the redneck's lingering gaze. "Daryl – you and I take the kid in. _Let me do the talking_. Things go south, you two," he glanced pointedly at Kaylee and T, "gotta cover us on the way out. You've only got so much ammo, and the noise will draw the walkers, so don't shoot until you know we're in trouble – or unless I give you a signal." He paused to rattle a shotgun shell near his ear, looking up at T. "You're sure you're alright with this?"

The man nodded solemnly before grabbing the bag of guns and walking around the corner to make his climb. Kaylee slung her weapon over her shoulder, careful to keep it pointed away from the others, and went to go find her own way up.

"One wrong move," she heard Daryl say behind her. "You get an arrow in the ass. Just so you know."

**~†~**

Daryl kept his crossbow shouldered and pointed at the punk as he and Rick followed him silently through the ruined courtyard. It was more for the sake of anyone watching than because he was worried the boy might do something stupid, but he wasn't gonna trust the men they were about to meet any more than he had to. The building they were approaching looked like it might have been a warehouse or a garage at one point. Although, judging by the grass growing through the concrete, the rusted scrap, and the rotting lumber scattered haphazardly around, he suspected whatever business had once been here had been gone long before the world went to shit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Kaylee settling into position off his right side. The scope flashed briefly in the sunlight as she flattened herself out on top of the wall, lying prone with the rifle firmly against her shoulder. He hadn't been overly happy about her coming along at first, although he could understand why she'd wanted to go. Most of the women at their little camp seemed content to do laundry and clean things, letting the men worry about security and food and supplies – not that laundry wasn't important, he supposed, though he always made a point to do his own himself after everyone else was asleep. He'd been afraid she'd just be dead weight on the run, though – someone they'd have to coddle when they had other things to worry about. But the gear head had pleasantly surprised him at almost every turn. She'd gotten her hands dirty just as much as the rest of them, and he was impressed she hadn't bitched about getting hit in the face – even if she kept wincing at the sting when she thought no one was looking. And seeing her handle that rifle – damn. Between her and T-Dog, he was gaining no small amount of respect for the group Merle had wanted to rob. He was glad – and relatively confident – that they had his back.

The door slid open slowly and a lone man walked out casually into the sunlight. He was short – small build, rodent-like features – but his brown eyes were grave. Daryl tightened his grip on his crossbow as the man – who he assumed was the "G" the kid kept talking about – took stock of the situation, wisely keeping both hands where the redneck could see them.

"You okay, little man?"

The smartass shit took the opportunity to complain. "They're gonna pull out my teeth, _carnal_."

"Cops do that?"

"Not him. This redneck _puto_ here." Daryl wondered if he wanted to know what _puto_ meant, since it seemed it was the fucker's favorite nickname for him.

"Shut up."

"Hey!" Another man strode out of the warehouse, a small revolver in his hand. Daryl didn't really recognize his face, but the bandage on his ass was a good enough identifier. "That's that _vato_ right there, _homes_. He shot me in the ass with an arrow. What's up_, homes_, huh?"

"And where's your little bitch friend?" A thinner man limped out, leg in a makeshift splint and a sig in hand.

"Chill, _ese_," G said calmly. "Chill. Chill." Surprisingly enough, they obeyed almost immediately. "This true?" he asked. "He wants Miguelito's teeth? That's kinda sick, man."

"We were hoping more for a calm discussion."

"That hillbilly jumps Felipe's little cousin, beats on him, threatens to pull out his teeth. Felipe gets an arrow in the ass. Jorge's knee is shattered, best we can tell. And you want a calm discussion?" he scoffed. "You fascinate me."

"Heat of the moment," the cop explained. He was impressed with his ability to stay civil. "Mistakes were made – on _both_ sides."

G gestured towards Daryl. "Who's that dude to you anyway? You don't look related."

"He's one of our group, more or less. I'm sure you have a few like him."

_What the fuck was that supposed to mean?_ Sure, he didn't sit around the campfire and sing kumbya or some shit with everybody, but still.

"You got my brother in there? Sam?"

"Sorry, we're fresh outta white boys." Well, that was a definite 'no' if he assumed they were looking for two men. Damn. "But I've got Asian. You interested?"

"I've got one of yours. You've got one of mine. Sounds like an even trade."

"Don't sound even to me."

Harsh. "G," the kid – Miguel – whined. "Come on, man."

"My people got attacked. Jorge might not ever walk the same again. Where's the compensation for their pain and suffering? More to the point, where's my bag of guns?"

_Ah. So that's what this is about. _

"Guns?"

"The bag Miguel saw in the street. The bag Felipe and Jorge were going back to get. That bag of guns."

"You're mistaken."

"I don't think so."

"About it being yours. It's my bag of guns."

"The bag was in the street. Anybody could come around and say it was theirs. I'm supposed to take your word?" He _did_ have a point. "What's to stop my people from unloading on you right here and now, and I take what's mine?"

A small crowd had gathered just inside the doorway – about fifteen or no men armed mostly with crowbars and baseball bats, plus a few scattered handguns. It was a small group, but Daryl knew it didn't matter. With only two of them on the ground, it might as well have been an army.

Rick stayed calm and confident. "You could do that." He looked pointedly at the top of the wall where T was, then at Kaylee. "Or not."

Guierrmo took a moment to think, hopefully reevaluating his options. There little gang would still almost certainly win if it came to a fight – but at the guaranteed cost of at least his own life, and probably several others.

"Oye!" he called over his shoulder, looking up towards the roof. Two men came into sight with their hostage, a bag over Glenn's head as they pushed him towards the edge. "I see two options. You come back with Miguel and my bag of guns, everybody walks. Or you come back locked and loaded – we'll see which side spills more blood." Without another word, G and his thugs drifted back into the warehouse, sliding the door shut behind them.

Miguel looked like he was going to be sick as Daryl poked him in the back gently with his crossbow, nudging him out of the courtyard. He glanced up over his shoulder to make sure Kaylee was getting down alright – he could see from here she didn't look too happy, and he knew the feeling. Rick, on the other hand, looked more thoughtful than anything else – though the redneck hoped he wasn't considering giving up the guns. T-Dog caught up with them right through the gate, scowling darkly as he hiked the heavy black bag in contention up on his shoulder a bit. The engineer joined them shortly afterwards, her rifle slung over her shoulder beside her backpack.

The short trip back to their improvised hideout was uneventful and silent, each member of the party brooding and glaring at their captive, who thankfully didn't open his mouth to complain.

As Rick started going through the bag of guns, taking stock of what was there and counting out ammunition, Daryl couldn't hold his tongue any longer.

"Those guns are worth more than gold – 'cept gold won't protect your family or put food on the table. You willin' to give that up for that kid?"

"Glenn's not a kid." The engineer sat on a table, rifle across her lap. "And he's been putting food on the table as much as you have – if that's what we're weighing here."

Daryl scowled. "And y'all wouldn't go back for me – 'if that's what we're weighing here.'"

She raised an eyebrow challengingly. "You don't think so? We came back into this deathtrap for Merle, and I think we'll all agree we like you a fair bit better than your brother."

"You got somethin' you wanna say about my brother?"

"No, you're missing the point. You're part of the group – so's Merle and so's Glenn. We're not leaving him behind – I don't care what it takes."

"If I knew we'd get Glenn back I might agree," T said from his spot against the wall, crossing his hands over his chest. "But you think that vato across the street is just gonna hand him over?"

"You callin' G a liar?" Miguel challenged.

"Shut up." Daryl slapped him upside the head angrily. T-Dog was right, and he couldn't believe the cop and Kaylee couldn't see that. He was starting to rethink how appreciative he'd been of having her here. Women like her weren't prepared to make tough choices like this. Well bred, soft, and liberal were a bad combination at the end of the world, it seemed.

"Question is, are you willing to trust that man's word?"

"No, question is what are you willing to bet on it?" The redneck watched Rick carefully. "Could be more than them guns. Could be your life. Glenn worth that to you?" Not that he didn't like the little Asian kid – but those guns could mean the prolonged survival of the rest of the camp. Needs of the many, right? So many people had died already, they had to keep as many as were left alive, and more firepower was probably their best chance.

"What life I have I owe to Glenn." It was the first time the man had spoken since they'd gotten back. "I was nobody to him – just some idiot stuck in a tank. He could have walked away, but he didn't. Neither will I."

"So you're gonna hand them guns over?" he asked, almost accusatory. He really didn't like this idea.

"I didn't say that." Now there was something. The man looked carefully at each of them. "There's nothing keeping y'all here. You should get out, head back to camp."

"And tell your family what?" T sighed.

Daryl looked long and hard at the cop, thinking carefully. He supposed he really didn't have much to lose. The world had already gone to shit and he'd probably be dead by the end of the month anyway, right? The odds sucked no matter what choice they made. Might as well go out tryin' to do something worthwhile, he supposed. He nodded at last in affirmation, before glancing back at Kaylee. He didn't like the idea of her making her way through the city alone.

"'ll take Kaylee back to the truck and meetcha back here – then we'll go."

"Pft, fuck that." She hopped down off the tabletop. "I'm goin'."

"No ya ain'." He turned to glare at her. There was no way he was taking a woman into what was sure to be a last stand firefight. Even if they won – heaven helping – they'd have to make it back through Atlanta while being swarmed by geeks. She was too valuable to the rest of the group to get herself killed on this trip. "No discussin' it."

She strode past him and picked up a .9 mm up off the table, sliding a clip in and pulling back the slide before flipping the safety on and putting it down the back of her pants. "The hell I'm not. I make my own decisions," she stated firmly, calmly collecting some extra ammo from the bag. "You're not gonna tell me 'no.'"

He grumbled in irritation as he loaded up a shotgun.

"Come on, this is nuts." Miguel complained from the floor, head in his hands. "Just do like G says."

He tried to get up, but Daryl wasn't going to have it. Between women trying to get themselves killed and kids being little bitches, he'd had enough. He grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back down, glaring daggers at him the whole way. "You'd best shut your mouth."

**~†~**

"Come on, Merle. Stop." Sam glanced around anxiously as the redneck peeked inside the truck. She was pretty sure the vehicle hadn't been there when they'd come in, which meant someone had come into the city recently and was probably counting on having the truck as their getaway car by the end of the day. Merle had been being a pain in the ass since they'd gotten off the roof, and she had started to wish she'd left him there to be walker food – or maybe tried to wait a little longer for a rescue. After that first geek had pushed through the crack in the door, though, she'd been a little too freaked out to stay. She'd figured it would be better to leave while they still had a bit of time.

"Lookie here girly!" he grinned as he jingled a gleaming key ring at her. "They left the keys in the ignition. Real thoughtful of 'em."

"Camp's really not that far, jackass. We can walk."

"You wanna go back empty handed after what they did to ol' Merle? They ain't gonna be none too happy to see you walkin' up with me." He threw Kaylee's toolbox into the back. "Thought this truck here would sweeten the deal. Ain' that friend of yours been complainin' about not havin' enough spare parts?"

The ass just smiled at her in triumph as she conceded with a huff, throwing her backpack to join the tools and climbing into the passenger seat. She slumped down into the seat, staring straight ahead and crossing her arms over her chest. She was tired and had a headache, and dealing with the dumbass starting up the truck beside her all day wasn't helping to improve her mood.

Their twisted, convoluted path out of the city had involved trudging past the hotel where Kaylee had lost her family, and glancing into the lobby had put knots in Sam's stomach. Someone had thought to lock the sliding doors before it was too late, and the walkers pushed up against the glass as they'd passed by. Right there in front, rotting and gnashing their teeth, were Jessie and Mrs. Hamilton. Merle had made some snide comment she couldn't remember, even as Sam had wiped tears from her eyes. She was glad her friend hadn't had to see them that way, though for the programmer it had just served to bring home the fact the world was gone. There was nothing left but what they could make for themselves.

She closed her eyes as Merle continued to drive, making commentary she didn't care to listen to as they went. God, she was tired. Before she knew it, she'd fallen asleep, hoping they'd be back soon and she could curl up in her blankets and forget.


End file.
